


'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Kane (Band), Smallville RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-24
Updated: 2007-07-13
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating:** R [NC-17 overall]  
**Word Count:** 3, 410  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will _not_ unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
  
  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Pledge Week.  
Day 4._  
  
  
  
A dog collar. A fucking _collar_. He guesses he should be glad Jared went for a simple blue ribbon instead of a glittery pink fiasco like he’d seen a few of the other pledges running around with. Chad’s little Brother is wearing spikes, so there is _that_.  
  
It’s just. It’s just _feeling_ the damned thing stretched tight against his throat, and then seeing the leash in Jared’s hand…it’s just seventeen different kinds of fucked up, is what it is. And way too fucking hot for Jensen’s peace of mind, as he’s basically _dragged_ through the east quad, head bowed, enduring the pointed stares and cat-calls and feeling his cheeks flush from the sun and his own confused excitement.  
  
Christ, he should _not_ be getting off on this. None of it’s real; it’s all some stupid power play by a bunch of idiotic fratboys to initiate whomever they deem worthy into their weird, sycophantic society. Jensen knows this. He does.  
  
It’s just that none of his research, none of his notes ever prepared him for _Jared_ \-- for this fucking _kid_ with ridiculous dimples and floppy hair. He isn’t prepared to deal with heavy-lashed, slanted eyes that belong on a fucking cat, or a puppy, or someone sucking Jensen’s dick. Oh, yeah, that last one especially.  
  
To make matters even worse, or better depending on just how fucking screwed Jensen wants to let himself be, he doesn’t think he’s imagining Jared’s reaction to _him,_ either. The quick looks and coy smiles whenever he doesn’t think that dipshit Chris is looking, the way he’s unnecessarily up in Jensen’s personal space every damn second of the damn day. Fucking _touching_ Jensen, teasing him, when he knows – he _knows_ \-- Jensen can’t do a damn thing about it. Because it’s Master and Servant Day, and Jensen can’t afford to say _what the fuck, Jared?_ because he can’t blow this. He won’t.  
  
Fucking fraternities and their sick, twisted mindgames.   
  
His erection just pisses him off, just solidifies his intentions. He hunches his shoulders and grits his teeth, determined to ignore the pulsing, demanding call of his dick -- _c’mon, Jen, just look at his **mouth!**_ \-- and to concentrate instead on the article he’s gonna write that’s gonna expose Delta Sigma Pi for the hazing jackasses they really are.  
  
So he doesn’t let himself think about Jared, or the warm curl in his belly when Jared suddenly stops, spins around and pins Jensen in place with the force of a quick flash of teeth.   
  
“We’re here.” Deep, provocative voice that Jensen most definitely has _not_ been jerking off to every night since he was assigned to the overgrown, ridiculously sexy man-child.  
  
Jensen opens his mouth, then remembers his role when Jared’s eyes narrow. He lowers his gaze and simply nods his head. Hopes that Jared misses the subtle curve of the sneer on his lips.  
  
There’s a beat of silence. “Well, come on then.” Jared tugs on the leash and Jensen’s dragged a few inches forward. He blinks, looking up and sucking in sharply at the curious gleam in Jared’s eyes. “Something you wanna say, pledge?” Jared asks, too softly, and Jensen’s not sure if it’s an invitation or a threat.  
  
He just shakes his head, blood thundering in his ears and cock thick and swollen in his pants. Follows Jared inside of the house, down the hall, meek and obedient like a fucking slave, and _God_ , why isn’t he completely disgusted yet?  
  
A part of him is, of course. And he’s pretty sure that if he’d been assigned to Chad or any of the other Brothers, he’d be having a hard time not outing himself and punching all of the smug pricks in their Greek noses.   
  
With Jared, his problem’s not falling so far into the game that he doesn’t want to stop playing.  
  
“Turn left,” Jared says, even though he’s the one leading Jensen around by the collar. His voice takes on a crooning softness that has a hot shudder starting deep in Jensen’s bones. They stop in front of a door, and Jared lifts a brow. “Go on in, I’ll be there in a second.”  
  
Jensen swallows back the questions his reporter’s instinct screams, just pushes open the door and walks inside. He knows it’s Jared’s room even without seeing the pictures decorating the walls, the baseball bat in the corner of the room, the Cowboys poster on the ceiling. He knows it’s Jared’s room because it smells like clean soap and musky spice and everything else that’s been haunting Jensen since the beginning.  
  
If he wasn’t hard before, he’s aching and ready to burst now.  
  
A minute later the door shuts behind him, and he startles a bit before Jared’s warm hand closes down over his shoulder, those long fingers curling practically into Jensen’s collarbone. Jared’s other hand settles on Jensen’s other shoulder, and Jensen finds himself pressed up against the wall before he ever sees Jared move.  
  
There’s a faint warning in his head, a dim wail of, _oh shit, what’re you doing, Jensen? Mayday, mayday!_ but god _damn_ , Jared’s seducing him with his eyes and his mouth and the cock of his hips as he brushes close and hums just under his breath.  
  
“Did you learn the Creed, Jensen?”   
  
Jensen can’t look away from the gleam of saliva on Jared’s wide mouth. Realizes Jared must’ve licked his lips, and oh, _God._  
  
“Y-Yes.” He struggles to get his bearings, barely recognizing the husky-raw sound of his own voice. “I studied it.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
When Jared turns around and walks away, Jensen slumps against the wall and wonders what the hell he missed. Disappointment is a bitter tang on his tongue, frustration chasing sour that he’d been about two seconds away from grabbing Jared by his shirt and dragging that pouty, smirky mouth to his own. Fucking _tasting_ what’s only been a tease for too damn long.  
  
Then Jared’s reaching for his shirt, pulling it over is head, and Jensen’s mouth drops open and a strangled sound thickens the air when Jared nods. “Say it for me.”  
  
_I want you._ It’s the first thing Jensen thinks to say, but he swallows it down, not missing the knowing flash in those dark, watchful eyes. “Okay,” he says instead, and searches his brain for anything other than thoughts of Jared, naked Jared, naked _horny_ Jared, naked horny Jared licking a naked _Jensen…_  
  
“You gotta tell me, Jensen,” Jared’s smoky voice sounds just beside him, punctuating the slip-slide of palm on Jensen’s shoulder, and when the hell had the fucker _moved?_ “I’m not gonna force you. I wanna hear it from those _mmm_ -pretty pink lips first.”  
  
_Oh, God._ Jensen squirms, heat spreading through his belly. More than likely, Jared’s just fucking with him…testing him. Seeing how easily Jensen’ll break. The Deltas sure as hell were pulling out the big guns with this guy.  
  
A soft noise comes out of Jared’s throat, and he walks around and kneels in front of Jensen. Brown-green eyes are hooded and glittering, lips pursed, and it’s all too easy for Jensen to imagine them bite-swollen and come-slick as he swallows a groan and lifts his lashes to meet Jared’s consuming gaze.  
  
“To believe in what my Brothers hold True,” Jensen recites, voice husky-rough, cracking a little when those long fingers reach for his belt. That same something flashes through Jared’s eyes, his lips curving and tongue swiping the edges -- _oh, goddamn_ \-- and Jensen cants his hips, lids falling half-mast. “To walk…walk in the way of Those Before Me.”  
  
“That’s good.” Jared croons it softly, working leather through silver. Shaggy curls fall across his eyes, and Jensen’s fingers itch to brush them back, twist and hold. He curls them into his palm, nails biting skin, and Jared chuckles low like he _knows._ “Keep going.”  
  
_Aw fuck, what even comes…_ “To serve…to serve…” He trails off, a sob catching in his throat when Jared leans forward and snags the hem of Jensen’s threadbare cotton shirt in his teeth. “Oh, _God._ ”  
  
Just like that, Jared pulls back and moves away. Something like regret shines in his eyes before his voice hardens, going impersonal and flat. “Spoken out of turn, pledge.”  
  
_Shitdamnfuckinghell._   
  
“Turn around.” Soft, commanding, and Jensen closes his eyes, lurches his hips, and tastes excitement rich on his tongue. Followed by slightly bitter uncertainty when denim’s tugged down past his ass, a callused hand brushing along in its wake. He shivers, drawing on his bottom lip, and pushes back just enough into Jared’s touch.  
  
_Please._  
  
When it comes, Jared’s voice is almost apologetic. “Gonna have to punish you, Jensen. I need you on your knees for me, your hands on the floor. That’s right…just slide on down right there.” He hums under his breath, hands shaping Jensen’s hips and helping him into position.  
  
Jensen can feel his legs shaking, wants to look over his shoulder but doesn’t dare. Just stares down at the carpet in Jared’s bedroom, ass up, hands down. Waiting. There’s a part of him that feels like he’s standing off in the corner, seeing all of this go down with not a little fascination and disbelief.  
  
He doesn’t _do_ this. Doesn’t submit himself to this kind of bullshit. Ever.  
  
He’s so caught up in that thought, the crack of wood against palm makes him flinch, and his gaze snaps to Jared, dropping and freezing on the vaguely intimidating paddle in those large hands.  
  
Oh. Fuck. His fingers are already curling in the too-long carpet fibers, throat clogging with pleas and protests, and then Jared quiets him with, “Eyes forward, pledge. Trust your Brother to take care of you.”  
  
It’s totally fucking twisted, but Jensen’s dick is hard and ready to go, ass almost twitching in preparation for the first solid smack of the paddle. He hangs his head between his shoulders and swears to God Jared won’t hear him whimper.  
  
“To believe in what my Brothers hold True.” Jared’s voice is grainy and filthy-low, almost like he’s trying to soothe Jensen’s frazzled nerves. Although Jensen knows damn well the last thing Jared’s there to do is make him feel comfortable. Sure enough, the paddle comes down, branding Jensen’s ass, and he bucks back into the sharp throb.  
  
“Mmm. To walk in the way of Those Before Me,” Jared continues, _purrs_ , stroking the edge of the paddle along the fiery patch of skin. “To serve with Honor.” The second bite of the paddle drags out a groan from deep in Jensen’s chest. He blinks heavy lashes and breathes a soundless curse, which Jared echoes into the thick silence. Then, “Ready to tell me the rest, pledge?”  
  
For the first time all week, Jensen doesn’t _want_ to talk. Just wants to stay there, bent over and taking it from this goddamn _kid_ who’s got him by the short and curlies and fucking knows it, too. But his pride’s too much to swallow, and he hears himself saying, “This is the Belief, the Way, the H-Honor of Delta Sigma Pi.”  
  
“What’s your name, pledge?” Another smack, softer and lower against Jensen’s left cheek.  
  
Jensen hunches his shoulders, feels the burn and rides with it. “I have no name until I’ve earned the name of Brother.”  
  
“And do you think you’ve earned it?” Soft breath, slurred vowels right in Jensen’s ear -- Jensen licks his lips and tries to ignore the thrum of blood in his veins and cock. There’s a test somewhere in here, and he can’t go letting his dick get the better of his brain.  
  
“Not my decision to make,” he forces out, sweat starting to gather at his temples and the base of his spine, and Christ, but he can fucking _taste_ the cologne flavoring Jared’s skin.  
  
Jared’s quiet for a long moment. And then, “Very good.”   
  
Jensen goes nearly limp with relief, blowing out a heavy breath and squeezing his eyes shut. _It’s okay, you’ve still got a chance with this. Just keep playing the game._  
  
“You’re _very_ good, Jensen,” Jared repeats, husky and approving, and then his hands are sliding down Jensen’s hips, smoothing over the welts from the paddle. “You’re trying very hard, aren’t you? Wanna make your Brothers happy?”  
  
It’s on the tip of his tongue to correct Jared -- _not the Brothers, just you_ \-- but he can’t afford to be thinking those thoughts, much less saying them out loud to some guy he barely knows. Whether or not said guy makes his dick fly like a flag in a stiff breeze.  
  
He’s silent for so long that Jared sighs, the sound amused and just a little annoyed. “You can speak, pledge. I’m asking you a question.”  
  
Jensen flicks his tongue, wetting his lips. He’s unable to meet Jared’s gaze when Jared’s finger curls around his chin, tilting his face toward his own. “I just wanna…” Jared’s nose brushes his cheek; a soft tongue laps at the corner of his mouth. “ _Fuck._ Jared.”  
  
Everything goes still the second he whispers it, and horror mixes with anticipation. _You’ve blown it, fucked it up, idiotidiotidiot…_  
  
“Yeah.” Jared’s voice is a growl against Jensen’s neck, sharp teeth sinking in. Marking, and Jensen groans and arches back when Jared’s hand slips down to rub at his dick. “ _Yeah._ Say it again, wanna hear you—”  
  
A loud knocking interrupts whatever Jared’s about to say, and Jensen’s first impulse is to leap away, pull his clothes on and deny, deny, deny. His trials in accepting his own sexuality taught him the importance of privacy, if nothing else, and he’s not about to let it get out that he likes being held down and _spanked_ , for chrissake. Although really, it’s news to him as well.  
  
“Don’t move.” Jared’s cursing and stomping toward the door, and Jensen hears it swing open, squeaking on its hinges. “What the fuck, man?”  
  
“What’re you _doing_ in there?” comes an obnoxiously familiar voice, and Jensen winces and tugs his jeans up, ignoring the sore scream of his ass. The absolute last thing he wants is for Chad to see him like this, to have it come back and bite him in the ass when this is all over.   
  
Jared doesn’t sound too thrilled, either. “Dude, seriously. Go away.”  
  
“What’re you…you got someone in there, Jay?” Jensen sees a head of dirty-blond hair bouncing over Jared’s shoulder, and contemplates diving behind the bed, despite the punishment he might receive from disobeying orders. “Who is he, you dog?”  
  
Jared splutters out a breath, scratching the back of his neck, and Jensen can see the flush painting Jared’s skin pink. “He’s a _pledge_ , dillhole.”   
  
Chad’s whistle is knowing and sly. “Oh. Nice. You scored good on yours, man. Mine’s a lost fucking cause.”  
  
Jensen practically _hears_ Jared’s smirk, and shifts his feet, feeling a bit weird about standing here listening to Jared and Chad discuss him like he’s…like he’s fucking cattle or something. Which, technically, he is. At least for this week and under the eyes of these people.  
  
And ain’t that a bitch?  
  
But Jared only says, “Get lost, fucker. I’ll see you at dinner” and slams the door in Chad’s face, turning around and pinning Jensen with a single look as Jensen comes to his feet. “I told you not to move.”  
  
Jensen’s jaw goes tight, and suddenly it’s all too clear. This kid is years younger than he is, doesn’t know a damn thing about what life’s like outside of the protective circle of college and the Delta Sigs, and Jensen can’t fucking _believe_ he’s gotta accept that.   
  
Something softens in Jared’s gaze then, and he steps forward. “Look, Jensen…I know this is all a little weird.”  
  
_You think?_ Jensen stays silent, tries not to think about the burn of the paddle on his ass or his own damned reaction to it.   
  
Jared huffs out a breath, rubs the back of his neck, and looks Jensen up and down until Jensen’s ready to give up and glance away. “C’mon, Jen.” It’s so soft, Jensen almost wonders if he imagines it. Then the deliberate shortening of his name hits him, and he stares at Jared hard, trying to read whatever emotion’s shining in those green-brown depths.   
  
“I.” He swallows, cuts himself off and bows his head. Then lifts his chin and stares Jared straight-on. “I have no name until I’ve earned the name of Brother.”  
  
Jared’s throat works, his mouth opening and closing. The next time it comes, his voice carries a thread of disappointment that wasn’t there before. “Very good, pledge.”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
The Cactus Café.  
Two weeks earlier._  
  
  
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”  
  
Jensen smiles, wiping his hands with a questionably stained rag and tossing it on the counter. “It’s true,” he says, voice a low drawl that can barely be heard amidst the clatter of the Friday night dinner crowd and the wailing bluegrass band onstage.  
  
Steve’s expression remains uncertain, and Jensen can practically read the baffled thoughts his friend’s projecting like a cartoon bubble over his head. Hell, he can barely believe it himself.   
  
Jensen Ackles: Greek brother and alumnus has never been one of his life goals or aspirations, but all the same, when the call had come from _The Daily Texan_ , he’d jumped at the opportunity and signed on for Rush Week with the notorious Delta Sigma Pi’s. It’s their own damn fault for sending him an invitation in the first place, and he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.  
  
“But I thought…” Steve gets interrupted when a pretty blonde co-ed stumbles up to the bar, batting long lashes at his friend and begging for another Jack and Coke. Jensen just smirks, adjusting the ties of his apron and watching his friend assemble the drink, before Steve turns back to him and finishes his previous thought. “I thought you hated all that prissy Greek bullshit. ‘Solidarity’,” he mocks, gesturing with two fingers.  
  
“I do.” Jensen snorts. “But man, you just have no idea…the shit you can _get_ being Greek. With that kind of backing, I could probably get any internship I wanted.”  
  
“And what makes you think they’ll choose a wannabe massage therapist-slash-busboy-slash-bit reporter when there’s plenty of aspiring doctors and lawyers waiting in the wings? Money likes money, Jen.”  
  
Jensen’s smile becomes a smirk, knowing, and he bites his bottom lip before slanting Steve a look from under his lashes. “They’ve already invited me to join,” he points out. “Must’ve seen something they liked.”  
  
Steve’s voice is less than impressed. “Yeah. I’ll bet. Just…just watch out, okay? I’ve heard some crazy shit, and I just. Just be careful.”  
  
“Dude, seriously.” Jensen laughs, clapping Steve on the back as he comes around the bar counter. “I’m like three years older than most of these guys. I’m not scared of some little rich punks, and if _I_ don’t like what _I_ see, then I’m outta there before they can do a damn thing to me anyway.”  
  
He’s not about to admit that the only people with something to worry about are gonna be the damn Delta Sigs when Jensen’s through with them.   
  
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Steve presses, scrubbing a bit harder at a dirty glass. “I mean, why _you?_ Why not Tommy? That guy’s been hot on the heels of every damn fraternity on campus and he’s got the family connections to back it up. You’re from fucking Richardson, and your dad sells used cars, man.”  
  
Jensen lets the insult roll off his back, well used to the derogatory comments about his hometown and upbringing amidst the money and prestige of the Austin college scene. He knows Steve doesn’t mean anything by it; his home life’s almost as pathetic as Jensen’s, anyway.  
  
“Sure, I’m curious.” He leans on the bar, ignoring the interested look from a vaguely familiar redhead he thinks he might have a night class on Thursdays with. She pouts, full lips sulky and pink, and Jensen thinks it’s a damn shame that the rest of her comes with the wrong equipment. “Why do you think I’m gonna show up there tomorrow?”  
  
Steve’s watching him with narrowed eyes now, and damn, but the guy’s always known Jensen just a little too well. “What’re you up to, Jensen?”  
  
Jensen grins, shrugs his shoulders and pushes back from the bar. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** 'Til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [2/9]  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 3, 152  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
[ Previously:](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/277830.html)  
  
_Steve’s watching him with narrowed eyes now, and damn, but the guy’s always known Jensen just a little too well. “What’re you up to, Jensen?”  
  
Jensen grins, shrugs his shoulders and pushes back from the bar. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”_  
  
  
And now:  
  
_University of Texas.  
Frat Row, ΔΣΠ House  
Day 6._  
  
  
Pink’s definitely his color.  
  
Jensen reminds himself of this lucky fact as he walks down the gravelly pavement, careful not to trip on the ice-pick thin heels currently making his calves ache. That the damn things could even be found in his size is worrisome enough, but that’s easily forgotten in favor of just where the hell Jared had come up with the lace thong and bra.  
  
The salmon-colored tank dress? Flatters him maybe a little _too_ well, judging by the looks he gets from several of the jocks crowding the front lawn of the Delta Sig House. It’s almost worth the five minute hike in stilettos to see the collective hard-on before him go limp with realization.   
  
Catching the gaze of one he recognizes from his poli-sci class, Jensen flutters his lashes -- thickened and blackened by a tube of mascara he borrowed from a bubbly bankteller in his building before leaving his apartment. Pursing glossy lips for the full effect, he swallows a chuckle when the thick-necked football player’s hand falls to his side. Beer spills in a pale arc onto the manicured lawn, and the guy croaks out, “Jensen?” as he walks by without comment.  
  
The music inside’s loud and modern enough to make him feel like an old fart, but he swallows a grimace and pushes past the writhing, drunken bodies in the foyer. Looks for any sign of Jared so he can get this shit over with and check off another box on his list of things he’s gonna make the Delta Sigs pay for when this all goes public.  
  
He doesn’t find Jared, but he sees plenty of other pledges working the room, all dressed in various slutty getups and being mocked and maligned by the Brothers and their guests. Jensen ducks into the kitchen, and smirks when he finds Michael hiding out inside.   
  
His friend and boss is all but drowning in a fruity blue and green cocktail that Jensen’s not willing to guess the contents of, but his eyes are still sharp and focused when Jensen nudges his shoulder and slides up onto the counter beside him.  
  
“Who’re you pledging, big boy?” He winds a golden curl through his fingers, giving Mike his best flirtatious, girly, come-hither look.  
  
Mike’s not particularly moved, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smacking his lips. “Nice wig.” His eyes travel down the length of Jensen’s body, and blue stains his teeth when he finally grins back. “Dude, did you shave your ass, too?”   
  
“What makes you think I don’t shave it anyway?” is all Jensen says, enjoying himself when Mike chokes on his next sip. Clapping a hand on Mike’s back, he leans in closer. “Like my dress? I think it really slims and accentuates my…legs.”  
  
“You’re a fucking egomaniac, Ackles.” Mike’s voice takes a turn for bitter and helpless when he sets his drink down on the counter. “Goddamn asshole pricks. They made Tom serenade a fucking biker bar last night. He got away with _only_ a coupla cigarette burns and a black eye.”  
  
Jensen’s smile fades away, a low curse tainting his lips. “Sigma Phi, right?” Anger burns his belly, sick and sharp, when Mike nods tightly. “Son of a bitch. Why the hell is he doing this, man? I don’t…”  
  
“Beauty. There you are.”   
  
Jared’s voice precedes him by a split-second, and Jensen’s not distracted enough to miss the warning hint in his “big Brother’s” voice. The fact that Jared’s using his stupid fraternity name alone is enough of an alarm.  
  
Ignoring Mike’s mouthed “Beauty?” he twists around, finding Jared scowling at them both. Jared’s arms are folded tight across the navy blue cotton of his shirt, muscles tense and bunched as he leans against the doorjamb and stares.  
  
Jensen wants to walk over and lick the broody frown from those sulky lips. _Hates_ himself for it, and looks away before the errant urge overcomes his good sense. Meeting Mike’s gaze, he apologizes best he can without words before sliding off of the counter and turning to face Jared fully.  
  
Jared’s gaze softens a bit as he looks Jensen up and down, then warms over in approval that has Jensen squirming in his motherfucking thong. “Wait for me in the den,” Jared says, dismissing Jensen, eyes traveling back over to Mike. “And who the hell are you?”  
  
Mike goes rigid, and Jensen licks his lips and starts, “It’s okay, he’s with me--”  
  
“Actually, you’re with me,” Jared corrects, too calmly, and Jensen most definitely does _not_ find the possessive note coloring Jared’s rumbly tone hot. But it’s a lot harder than he wants to admit to work up righteous indignation over it.  
  
“I was invited,” he hears Mike saying, his friend’s voice just short of patronizing. “Your…fraternity leader. Christian-something? Hired me to do a bit of advertisement for tonight’s events. I’m from the student paper.”  
  
Jared stares at him hard, but eventually nods, features relaxing a little. Still, his voice is no less mocking or combative. “You should check out the front lawn then. Heard there’s a rockin’ game of touch football goin’ on out there. Real front page stuff.”  
  
Mike’s lips thin, but he smiles and catches Jensen’s gaze one last time, pointed and meaningful as he brushes past. Jensen reaches up to rub his temple during the silence that follows, wishing he’d had one of those blue mystery drinks, too.  
  
“So, you showed after all.”  
  
He blinks, looking up at Jared’s suddenly cheery statement, and finds himself blinded by too-white teeth and sparkling eyes. “Uh, yeah. I got your note.”  
  
Jared looks him over again, shifting closer. “You know…you weren’t supposed to make dressing like a girl look _good_.” Jensen’s skin goes hot and tight at the suggestion in Jared’s voice. “We’re trying to embarrass you, not make everyone jealous of me.”  
  
“I, uh.” He’s not really sure what the hell to say to that, and he can’t drag his gaze away from Jared’s to regain his bearings. In the end, he manages to choke out an awkward apology, mentally slapping himself for letting Jared get the upper hand yet again. He should be thinking of an excuse to get away, try to talk to a few of the other pledges, gather information.  
  
Jared’s hand is warm and gentle when he squeezes Jensen’s shoulder, fingers lingering and dipping just under the thin strap of the dress. “Don’t be sorry,” he says quietly, and Jensen _feels_ like a woman when the compliment obvious in Jared’s expression and voice has him close to weak-kneed and melting.  
  
Jesus, this is _bad_.  
  
He lets out a strangled laugh, pulling away when he finally realizes how close they’re standing, practically pressed together in the doorway where anyone could get a good glimpse if they wanted. Although he doubts there’s a sober soul in the house, aside from him and Mike.  
  
Jared’s definitely had more than a few, eyes heavy-lidded and glazed-soft, and he reaches out and tugs Jensen close again. “Where you goin’?”  
  
_What’m I **doing?**_ Jensen wonders frantically, while Jared drags him out of the kitchen straight into the dimly-lit throbbing mass of sweat and sex.   
  
Jared’s expression is dark and purposeful, making it real damned hard to even remember what he’s supposed to be doing here. Then Jared’s hips suddenly grind against his own, and Jensen swallows.   
  
Jared’s mind might be a little slow at the moment, but his body’s definitely not having any problems keeping up.  
  
“You know, no one even knows who you are,” Jared whispers against Jensen’s ear, mouth wet and hot, cock hard. Jensen sucks on his bottom his lip and curses the thong biting into his swelling erection. “I could…I could…”   
  
Jared’s breath is shaky, and then his hands are cupping Jensen’s ass and squeezing. His words come out choppy and strained, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the context. “Right here…wouldn’t fucking _know…_ ”  
  
“Uh, I think you’re a little out of it.” Hysterical laughter brews in Jensen’s chest, because under any other circumstance? Being practically molested by a piece of ass as hot as Jared Padalecki would be right up there on Jensen’s list of things to do.  
  
“How ‘bout I get ‘in it’ then?” Jared rolls his hips, slow and meaningful, one hand slipping up under the hem of Jensen’s dress. Jensen hisses through his teeth when Jared brushes across the fading welts from the paddling days before.  
  
“Damn,” he breathes, and Jensen echoes the oath in his head.   
  
“You’re so goddamn pretty, Jensen.” Jared’s purring, working Jensen’s dress up and pressing them back further into the shadows. “You’re kinda ridiculous, even. I swear to Christ, I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.” An almost desperate gleam lights his eyes when he pulls back, studying Jensen with boyish hope. “Tell me I’m not readin’ you wrong.”  
  
Jensen knows he oughta say _something_ \-- preferably _get off of me, you fucking abusive assclown_ \-- but the truth is, Jensen’s starting to get really freaked out that he’s misjudged something somewhere in this gigantic mess. Jared’s not what he expected, definitely, but Jensen’s determined to bring these people down and he can’t deny that Jared’s a part of the big picture.   
  
Just like he can’t really deny that he’s starting not to care.  
  
“You’re not,” he grinds out finally, equally relieved and dismayed when Jared’s eyes go melting hot and he fingers the strap of satin and lace riding the crease of Jensen’s ass.   
  
“I can make you feel so fucking good.”   
  
Jensen shivers a little when those long, talented fingers start pulling the thong down his hips. God, it’s been so long since he’s been in this position, since he’s let _anyone_ take this kind of control, and he’s not sure if he likes it. But there’s no way in hell he’s gonna let it stop.  
  
The first touch of Jared’s hand on his cock has Jensen’s hips lurching, lips cussing, and his head falling back against the wall with a solid thud. Jared’s mouth draws a focused line, fist hot and tight, and he breathes, “Goddamn, baby” in a gritty voice that makes Jensen want to jump out of his damn skin. Then, “Oh yeah, you like that, huh? More?”  
  
Jensen answers by wrapping a leg around Jared’s calf and lifting up into his ridiculously huge hand, lashes fluttering and _fuck_ , if he isn’t a damned whore for this shit.   
  
For _Jared._  
  
Jared sighs his approval, tightening his grip and dragging his thumb over Jensen’s leaking cockhead. “Wanted to do this forever.” Jensen just nods dazedly, but Jared’s nowhere near done. “Wanna see you, Jen, pretty-pink and spread out in my bed. Wanna fuck that _mouth_ , stretch you wide, make you _mine._ ”  
  
“Fucking hell,” Jensen groans, hips bursting, cock thrusting. _I am so screwed, screwed, fucking **screwed**._  
  
“But right now.” Jared swallows, closing his eyes for a split-second before they reopen and he squeezes Jensen from root to tip. “Right now I’m gonna kiss you, and then I’m gonna lick your come from my hand.”  
  
Jensen shudders, wound too tight for too long. Spills sticky and hot across Jared’s fingers as those filthy-talking lips come down on his and suck his tongue straight out of his own mouth. Jared’s fingers keep working his dick, leaving Jensen to reach up and twist his in Jared’s mop of hair, struggling to keep steady.   
  
The kiss is sloppy, too wet, and nothing like anything Jensen’s experienced since he was a fumbling schoolboy still debating the pros and cons of tits versus balls. It’s also so damn ridiculously hot that he just shot off like a fucking schoolboy, too, and there’s no way Jared missed _that_.  
  
Jared lets go of Jensen’s bottom lip after tonguing the now-swollen flesh one last time. He deliberately holds Jensen’s gaze, and then brings his come-slick hand up to his mouth.   
  
Jensen’s spent cock gives a feeble twitch, fingers flexing and itching at his sides as he watches Jared lick his hand clean. Just as he’s contemplating reaching out and _fuck it all_ , Jared pulls back and adjusts himself with a muttered, “Jesus.” Leaves Jensen standing there, wide-eyed and rumpled as he turns and disappears through the crowd.   
  
Hours later, Jensen’s alone again in his own bed and jerking off to the memory of Jared’s soft groan, the lapping of his tongue.  
  
Things have just gotten way more complicated than he’s prepared to deal with.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Pledge Week.  
Day 1. _  
  
  
  
  
The first rule to remember when joining a fraternity, Jensen knows, is that they’re all fucked in the head.   
  
He’s all about the male “bonding”, in theory _and_ in practice, but he draws the line at being dragged out of bed by several guys wearing hooded cloaks and Superman pajama pants.   
  
Jensen’s pretty sure he’s seen this movie. It wasn’t worth the price of admission.  
  
Slung over a pair of broad shoulders and staring at a nicely-rounded Superman-covered ass, he drawls, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”   
  
“Don’t speak unless spoken to, _pledge_ ,” comes a smarmy voice from under one of the hoods.  
  
Jensen takes a deep breath and thinks of the unidentified stranger plastered across the front of the student newspaper with every horrific caption Jensen can come up with. It succeeds in curbing his tongue for now, and then he’s being lowered to his feet, blinking at the group of guys in various states of undress, huddling together on the floor of…wherever the hell they are.  
  
The one who’d been carrying him pulls off his hood, and Jensen stares up at a shaggy mop of dark curls, mischievous hazel eyes and pink lips and -- _oh, for crying out loud._  
  
Mr. Adorable flashes a set of dimples that further emphasizes the name Jensen’s libido has decided upon. It sets off warning bells in his head while he struggles to think of where he’s seen that smile before.   
  
_“What can I do for you?”  
  
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”_  
  
The fleeting memory throws him for a loop. Jensen feels himself _blush_ for the first time in close to ten years when the guy’s gaze snags on him and he murmurs to his friend, “Dibs on the pretty one.”  
  
Familiar smile, familiar voice, and Jensen’s eyes narrow. Something’s definitely weird here, but he can’t quite put his finger on it and _damn_ , but he doesn’t like being jerked around.  
  
“Which is the pretty one? Dude, you’re so fucking gay,” the other guy says, snorting and shouldering the dark-haired cutie with no little amount of brotherly affection. “Better hope Chris doesn’t find out you’re paddling your boat in uncharted waters, if ya catch my drift.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with an alternative lifestyle--”  
  
“Pretty sure you’re thinking of alternative _rock_.”  
  
“Jared, Chad, shut the fuck up.” It comes from the front of the room, and Jensen turns to see a squinty little guy in a cowboy hat bearing down hard on the two talkative frat brothers.   
  
Okay, he’s not really all that little, or squinty, and any other time Jensen might feel charitable enough to admit the guy’s got it going on, but right now he’s tired and pissed off. Not to mention he’s still stuck on dimples and blinding white teeth, so pretty much everything else pales in comparison.   
  
“Sorry, Chris,” the two Brothers apologize in unison, and the one Jensen’s been eyeing like the last piece of candy in the chocolate factory slants him a look and winks.   
  
Jensen flushes, blood and pulse quickening, and doesn’t quite understand his own reaction to such a practiced move. But he’s willing to go with it.  
  
For now.  
  
“All right, pledges. Listen up.” The one Jensen gathers to be the homophobic Chris brings his hands together in a thunderous clap, and several of the nervous pledge-hopefuls wince. Jensen tries not to roll his eyes, and fights back a yawn.   
  
Damn, but he could’ve used an extra hour of sleep before having to deal with _this_ shit.  
  
“What’s that, pledge?”  
  
Jensen blinks, looking up to find everyone staring at him. _Aw, hell._ Apparently, lack of sleep also robs him of his ability to keep his private thoughts, well, private.  
  
“We interrupt your beauty sleep?” Chris asks, sarcastic and mocking, and several of the still-cloaked Brothers snicker. The shorter of the two from before – Chad, maybe? Jensen’s never really liked the name Chad, and it would be such a shame if it belonged to the gorgeous kid with the eyes and lips – elbows Maybe-Jared in the belly and points. Jensen feels his dick give a hopeful twitch the second those dark eyes stroke him again.  
  
“Er,” is all Jensen says, shifting his weight from one hip to the other. “No?”  
  
Chris is still glaring at him, and Jensen wonders when was the last time the guy had his dick good and sucked. Not that he’s about to offer, but it’d cheer the asshole up a bit at least. “What’s your name, pledge?”  
  
Jensen sighs. “Jensen.”   
  
“Not anymore. You gotta earn that right.” There’s a gleam in Chris’s eyes that Jensen would fear if he weren’t ninety-nine percent sure he could knock this fucker out in a punch fight. There’s a tension-filled beat of silence, and then, “’Til then, we’ll just call you Beauty. And you know what every Beauty needs, pledge?”  
  
“A beast?” Maybe-Chad cracks, and Jensen’s surprised to see the flush creeping up the dark-haired kid’s neck. The joke isn’t _that_ bad, although he supposes just having to be friends with a guy like Maybe-Chad would be enough of an embarrassment.  
  
Chris is still watching him, lips curled into a sneer, and Jensen takes it all back. This guy is definitely little. And squinty. And much, much uglier than Jensen.  
  
A low drawl precedes the snap of Chris’s fingers. “Get up here, Jared.”  
  
Jensen tries not to feel _too_ smug when his eye candy disengages himself from Definitely-Chad’s hip and walks over to stand by Chris. Jensen can’t help but lick his lips when he notices how very _not_ little, or squinty, Jared is in comparison.   
  
“Beauty,” Chris says again, and Jensen hears more snickering in the shadowed corners of the room. Sees Chad’s smirk and something flash in Jared’s eyes as Chris pats him on the chest, a smug note flavoring his voice. “Meet your Beast.”  
  
Chad leans toward him amidst the cackles. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you won’t find out why they call ‘im that.”  
  
Jensen stares at Jared, and all at once, gone is the shy flush, the half-smile, and in its place is a hard, knowing glitter that sends warmth curling through Jensen’s belly. Jared’s smile just stretches wider.  
  
_Maybe I wouldn’t mind finding out._   
  
Jensen holds Jared’s gaze and swallows past a lump of uncertainty for the first time since this whole thing started.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** 'Til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [3/9]  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating:** R [NC-17 overall]  
**Word Count:** 2, 129  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
  
[ Previously:](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/279797.html)  
  
_“Beauty,” Chris says again, and Jensen hears more snickering in the shadowed corners of the room. Sees Chad’s smirk and something flash in Jared’s eyes as Chris pats him on the chest, a smug note flavoring his voice. “Meet your Beast.”  
  
Chad leans toward him amidst the cackles. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you won’t find out why they call ‘im that.”_  
  
  
And now:  
  
_University of Texas.  
Darrell K. Royal-Texas Memorial Stadium  
Day 5._  
  
  
Jensen's going to kill Jared.  
  
Literally rip him limb from fucking limb -- slowly, make it _memorable_ \-- and then he's going to string Jared’s bloody, ragged remains from the Tower. Let it serve as a lesson for all the snot-nosed fraternity brats on campus.  
  
But for now, all he can do is plot terrible things and sulk. Munch on stale nachos while trying to ignore the warm press of tits against both arms. His eyes water, his nose itches, and he sends up a silent prayer for a strong breeze or a thunderstorm or the Apocalypse itself before the overwhelming stench of sixteen different kinds of perfume has his allergies staging a mutiny.  
  
A fucking _date run_.   
  
Sure, Jensen’s heard tell of them. He’s laughingly mocked them himself upon seeing the poor, idiotic pledges looking like they’d prefer a bullet in the brain to catering to their sister-sorority’s every last request.  
  
All things considered, it was one of the milder rituals of the hazing process. At least, until _you_ were the poor, idiotic pledge. Then it was sheer fucking unadulterated torture, and Jensen was really trying not to let his sexuality be a determining factor in the situation. He _loves_ women, maybe not sexually, but he’s never had a problem being around them. This…this is a horse of a different color.  
  
Hell, he’d challenge any red-blooded heterosexual male to try and make it through one of these things and not excuse himself after ten minutes to go cry in the bathroom.   
  
To make matters worse, the Delta Sigs are partnered up with the Alpha Phis, and if ever a more flighty, simpering group of people existed in this world, Jensen’s (thankfully) yet to meet them. He’s been introduced to plenty of _Candies_ and _Stacies_ and _Melanies_ and managed not to miss a beat when they started calling him _Jenny_. He’s played the role damn near to perfection; smiling and laughing, flirting and fetching drinks and popcorn from the other end of the fucking stadium every time a pair of baby blues batted his way.  
  
On his third trip back, he pauses to take in the projector screen set up on the fifty yard line, the rows of lawn chairs and people partaking in UT’s first-annual _Longhorns Drive-In_ , and contemplates making a run for it. Jared never said how _long_ he had to stay, did he? Just to bring them all here and make sure they had a good time.   
  
Besides, he's gonna kill Jared anyway, so what the fuck does it matter?  
  
Cue heavenly amusement on Jensen’s behalf, because just as he's thinking it, his cell phone rings, the sound making him jump. He pulls it out and rolls his eyes at the caller’s identity. Flips it open and snaps, “What?”  
  
Jared’s voice is a slow, sexy drawl. “How’s it goin’, Beauty?”  
  
Jensen purses his lips, tightening his grip on the bucket of popcorn for -- Sarah? Stephanie? -- and mutters in a voice he hopes is too low for Jared to hear, “I fucking hate when you call me that.”  
  
“S’that right? What _should_ I call you then?” Amusement sparkles in Jared’s lazy voice.  
  
_Goddamn motherfucker_. Jensen’s teeth grit together, and he takes a deep breath, reminding himself -- again -- of what he’s here for. What he’s trying to accomplish. And why it’s worth this fucking misery.   
  
“Beauty’s…fine.” He can practically see Jared’s smug smile on the other end, and chews on the inside of his cheek. Conflicting emotions twist in his belly, turn his voice raspy, defensive. “And things are going great. Perfect.”  
  
“Uh-huh.” There’s a beat; Jensen scuffs his toe along the ground, stares up at the autumn night sky. “You wanna strangle them all with their purses, don’t you?”  
  
And just that easily, adversary becomes confidant. “Jesus _Christ_ , man.” Jensen pulls the phone tighter to his ear, ducking into the shadows and watching the group of girls he’d escorted squealing and talking and generally irritating everyone else in the near vicinity. “This is fucked up.”  
  
Jared’s laughter is hearty, real, warm, making Jensen bite his lip and struggle not to think about the day before. He hasn’t let himself remember the feel of Jared’s paddle on his ass at all today, despite the persistant tingle-sting, or his reaction to it. He’d exorcised those particular demons last night, hand and fingers wrapped tight around blood-thickened cock, pillow in his teeth and come burning his belly.  
  
He's over it.  
  
Unfortunately, Jared’s apparently in the mood to talk, so Jensen can’t hang up the phone and get back to the women who, while damaging his calm, pose no threat to his now-questionable sanity.   
  
“When I pledged, they sent us all out on a scavenger hunt to find our flag.” Jared’s voice takes a turn for wry, misty, so Jensen settles back against the wall, resigned and prepared to listen. “Of course, the girls had it and we had to do everything they said to get it back. _Everything._ ”  
  
“Of course.” Jensen can’t stop the smirk from twisting his lips. “Lemme guess…they wanted to take you shoe shopping?”  
  
“More like they wanted me to strip down naked and let them tattoo their crest on my ass. Apparently, I’m an Alpha Phi for life.”  
  
Jensen’s bark of laughter is surprising and genuine, and he can practically feel Jared’s answering pleasure across the line. Recovering quickly, Jensen clears his throat. “That’s, um, lucky for you.”  
  
“Jensen.” Jared’s voice is gentle, made softer when he uses Jensen’s name, and a shiver prickles along Jensen’s spine, completely at odds with the warm Texas breeze. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m _gay._ ”  
  
Uh, yeah. He’d kind of gathered that, what with the whole hard spanking that he was definitely not remembering. “Um.”  
  
“Letting a bunch of giggly co-eds feel me up is on my list of things to do _never._ ” Jared laughs, and Jensen thinks he likes the sound a little too much. “At the time I kind of thought maybe Chris _knew_ , but Chad had to do it, too, and if anyone would appreciate being held down and violated by a bunch of dyed-blonde Amazons, it’s Murray.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks for that thought.” But Jensen’s grinning, and it takes him a minute to realize that he’s actually enjoying the conversation. That any antagonistic feelings toward Jared had been wiped away with the first lazy slur from that wide mouth. His smile fades away, but the warmth in his chest lingers, making him feel uneasy and off-kilter.  
  
Like he knows exactly how vulnerable Jensen’s feeling, Jared pauses, then starts in with a casual, “Look, about yesterday.”  
  
_Oh, hell no._ “I oughta be getting back,” Jensen says quickly, ignoring the twinge in his buttocks. Resists the urge to reach down, run his finger along the fresh welts and shudder like he’d done into the wee hours of the night. In the shower that morning. Every moment he’d let himself admit that he wasn’t gonna forget any time soon.  
  
“I could get kicked out for what I did to you.” Jensen goes stock-still at the husky murmur. “I shouldn’t have…taken it that far. Or pushed you.”  
  
This is it. This is the perfect opportunity to turn the tide of control his way, to use Jared’s guilty remorse against him and see what else he can get out of it. Instead, he hears himself say, “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”  
  
Jared’s quiet for a long moment. Then, “You liked it, didn’t you?” A hitch of breath, and Jensen squeezes his eyes shut. Wonders what he’s doing, because none of this -- none of _Jared_ \-- had ever been in the plan. “You like being held down and…spanked, Jensen?”  
  
Just that easy, smooth and confident Jared’s back, and Jensen goes blindingly and unapologetically hard. He should hang up _nownownow_ , but apparently his brain doesn’t have any kind of defense against Jared Padalecki. “I, um.”  
  
“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Gritty, quiet…truthful? Jensen’s troubled by how much he wants to believe it. He draws hard on his bottom lip, reaches down to shove the heel of his hand against his dick when Jared groans through a breath. “I bet you’d look so pretty begging for it, Jen. All spread out and flushed, or maybe bent over and slick and…hmm.”  
  
“Fucking hell.” Jensen pulls the phone away and brings his fist up to his mouth. _Get a grip, Jensen. He’s fucking with you…he doesn’t mean any of this, or maybe he does, but it doesn’t matter. Not gonna happen._  
  
“Jensen?”   
  
He startles at the feminine tone, and looks over to see one of the Alpha Phis walking up to him, dark hair fanning her shoulders and a puzzled smile on her pretty face. Too late to run now, so he just smiles and hopes it’s dark enough to hide the flush on his cheeks and the massive hard-on in his pants.  
  
The girl -- whose name he can’t remember, although he thinks it maybe starts with a T -- narrows her eyes, then smiles back, edging closer. “Everything okay?” she asks, too sweetly, and Jensen tries not to grimace at the suggestive note in her tone.  
  
“Tell her to get lost,” Jared’s voice comes, filthy-soft and thick. Persuasive. “And meet me at the HRC in fifteen minutes.”  
  
Meet Jared. Alone. Still heady on the confusing emotions glomming his insides, he thinks about the museum -- sure to be a ghost town this time of night -- and walking in, being slammed up against the wall. Hot mouth angling across his in the dark, big hands shaping his ass, cock riding hard thigh.   
  
Jensen makes up his mind just that easily. “I gotta go.” Licks his lips. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning…big Brother.”  
  
He knows Jared gets the point when nothing but silence answers him. Jensen closes his phone and turns to the sorority sister with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  
  
“What can I do for you, honey?”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Perry-Castañeda Library  
2 days before Pledge Week._  
  
  
“Sorry I’m late.” Jensen slams his bag down on the table, getting dirty looks from a few of the library aides that he readily ignores. Catching Allison’s gaze, he gives a sheepish smile and shrugs both shoulders. “Practice ran over again.”  
  
Allie just shakes her head, sending choppy blonde waves fluttering across her eyes. “Are you _sure_ about this?” she asks for the umpteenth time, and Jensen hears the uncertain note coloring his friend and colleague’s voice. “Jensen, your plate’s really full this semester. If you can’t handle it, just _tell_ Mike and let him pawn this thing off on someone else--”  
  
“No.” Blunt, final, and he feels only a little guilty at the heat that sharpens it. He blows out a breath, rolling his neck and sliding into the chair beside Allie. “Look, I just. I _need_ to be involved with this. If it means dropping baseball, or cutting a few hours at the Café, then I’ll just…I’ll adjust.”  
  
Allie’s eyes are wary, but accepting. “You can talk to me, you know.”  
  
Jensen smiles breezily, but can’t quite hold her gaze. “Yeah.” Reaching for the keyboard in front of him, he scoots in closer. “Tell me what we have so far.”  
  
It takes a second, but then Allie replies and sounds back to her usual, go-get-em self. “Three cases so far on the Deltas alone. Fines, mostly, but there was a period back in ’94 when they actually shut the House down and threatened to revoke on-campus licensing.”  
  
“Nice,” Jensen drawls, opening a new browser and squinting at the small print. Damn, he should’ve brought his glasses. “Reason?”  
  
Allie’s soft snort punctuates the clacking of her fingers. “Seems that year’s pledge group wound up in the emergency room after consuming close to three gallons of some mystery cocktail. Stomach pumps for all, and the Deltas got more than the usual slap on the wrist.”  
  
“Morons,” Jensen mutters, fingers flexing. “Every single fucking one of them.”  
  
“Even Tom?” Allie keeps her eyes straight ahead, voice soft, as if she expects to be slapped herself.  
  
“Tom doesn’t know what the fuck he wants.” Jensen grinds his teeth together, washes down the worry with bitter determination. “Besides, he’s not Greek.”  
  
“Not yet.” Allie glances over quickly, then bites her lip. Says meaningfully, “Eventually he will be.”  
  
“Don’t underestimate me just yet, Allie.” Jensen’s smile is fierce and more than a little bit excited. “Always have a few tricks up my sleeve.”  
  
Allie sighs, longsuffering and slightly exasperated. “One day you’ll meet your match, Jensen," she sings, and Jensen smiles, but says nothing.  
  
_Not if I can help it_. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [4/9]  
 **Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** 3, 270  
 **Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
 **Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
[ Previously:](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/281231.html)  
  
 _“I could get kicked out for what I did to you.” Jensen goes stock-still at the husky murmur. “I shouldn’t have…taken it that far. Or pushed you.”  
  
This is it. This is the perfect opportunity to turn the tide of control his way, to use Jared’s guilty remorse against him and see what else he can get out of it. Instead, he hears himself say, “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”_  
  
  
And now:  
  
  
  
 _University of Texas.  
East Mall.  
Day 8._  
  
  
In the end, Jensen should’ve known better.  
  
“No walking on the grass” was the name of today’s game, and considering everything else he’d already been put through by the Delta Sigs’, it seemed a pretty mild request. At least, until he gets outside, and realizes just how fucked he really is.  
  
He’s supposed to meet Allie and Mike at the library by noon, and the shuttles aren’t running this week because of some transportation strike. And he’s got nothing but miles of green, Texas grass between Fine Arts and Law and PCL.  
  
The Deltas’ don’t really operate on an honor system, so Jensen assumes there are Brothers around, waiting. Watching. Just looking for a reason, and Jensen doesn’t need to give them one. Doesn’t need them looking too close, digging too deep and finding out his real motivations for being there. Not that he’s really sure he even knows himself, anymore.  
  
Still…  
  
He takes a quick look around, doesn’t see any familiar faces and hell, it’s a long walk. Figuring he can come up with a good excuse should the situation warrant it, he steps out onto manicured lawn, ducks his head to keep from being seen, and begins sprinting toward the North end of campus.  
  
At the East Mall, he turns a corner and runs right into Chad. The kid’s eyes narrow, then light up when he looks down and sees Jensen’s sneakers sinking into the earth. “Well, what do we have here?”  
  
Jensen’s cheeks are flushed from the short jog, and it takes him a second to catch his breath. He pulls an appropriately chagrined expression and thinks _I hate you all._ “Yeah, look, I--  
  
“Think you’re better than we are, huh? Think you don’t have to follow the rules, the process?” Chad’s voice takes on a belligerent tenor, something heated and dangerous sparking through his gaze. He leans in closer and Jensen smells musk and cologne, pleasantly woodsy and spicy, but it makes his stomach churn. He forces himself not to react when Chad’s lips stretch wider. “I’ve got news for you, _pledge_. I’m onto you.”  
  
Jensen’s gaze snaps up, submissive façade crumbling under the weight of surprise, and Chad chuckles. It’s not a pretty sound, and the first real jolt of fear punctures Jensen’s cynicism. Not that he’s really afraid of _Chad_ , but that he may have gotten in way deeper than he’d even imagined.  
  
It’s shadowy behind the building, and Jensen suddenly remembers something from the file Allie gave him. The dismissed claims from several sophomore sorority girls against the Deltas’ five years back.  
  
“I’ve seen the way you look at us, at Jared.” Jensen goes stiff, and Chad presses on, moving even closer. His voice is a nasty whisper now, brushing across Jensen’s skin like a phantom chill. “You think we’re a fucking joke, don’t you? But you wanna be us, too. Wanna be us, _challenge_ us. Wanna be…punished, maybe?”  
  
Chad’s hands come down on his shoulders, swift and sudden, and Jensen hears laughter roaring in his ears as pavement burns his knees. Chad rocks his hips, denim seam roughing up Jensen’s lips, and Jensen wonders why the hell he’s not _fighting_ this when he wants to scream and beat Chad’s smarmy grin in with his fists.  
  
 _You liked it, didn’t you? Liked being held down and…spanked?_  
  
God, what the hell had Jared told him?  
  
“See something you like, pledge?” Chad purrs, smug amusement in his gaze when Jensen looks back up. “Christ, no wonder Jay wanted you all for himself. You’re fucking begging for it, aren’t you?”  
  
That hurts, more than Jensen wants to think about. Not that Chad’s an asshole; he’s known that from the minute this whole thing started. But that Jared’s one, too, that he’s just been using Jensen for fucking hazing practice or whateverthehell…but then, Jensen’s known that all along, hasn’t he?  
  
“ _The fuck’s going on here?_ ”  
  
Jensen winces, more angry than surprised when Jared appears, bag slung across wide shoulders and a scowl darkening his features. Meeting Jared’s gaze, he lets every emotion he’s feeling weigh down his stare, lets Jared _see_ , and takes a perverse pleasure out of it when Jared flushes and snaps his gaze back at Chad.  
  
“What the fuck is this, man?” Jared sounds disbelieving, furious, but Jensen knows better. He knows better than anyone what a damn fine actor Jared can be.  
  
“Dude, he was breaking the rules.” Chad’s voice is a bored whine, like he can’t quite figure out why Jared’s even upset. “Wasn’t gonna do anything…just scaring him a bit. Teaching him a lesson.”  
  
“You’re a fucking prick, Murray.”  
  
At that, Chad’s mouth falls open, genuine shock curling his lip. “What’s wrong with you? I know he’s your pledge and you’re possessive and all that shit, but he belongs to Delta Sigma, Jay.”  
  
Jensen watches Jared’s expression, the wavering, unsure frown, and right then, he despises Jared like no one else on Earth. Wants to choke him, wrap his hands around Jared’s neck until his lying eyes are bugging out of their sockets and he’s begging Jensen for mercy.  
  
Then, softer, deadlier, “You’re a fucking _prick_ , Murray. And keep your hands off what’s mine.”  
  
Chad’s call of “Jared!” gathers no response, and Jensen tries to jerk his arm away when Jared takes hold of it, drags Jensen up against his side. But Jared slants him a single, quelling look. “Don’t. Just…come with me, please?”  
  
Jensen wants to tell him to fuck off, but something about the softness of that plea won’t let it happen. He gives half a thought to Allie and Mike waiting back at the library, then grinds his teeth and follows Jared. Back to Frat Row, past the staring Brothers lounging in the den of Delta House and up to Jared’s room. He feels on display, trussed-up, and itching for a fight.  
  
The second Jared’s door shuts behind them, he whirls around and has an elbow against Jared’s throat. “Don’t fucking touch me.”  
  
“Jensen.” Something glitters in Jared’s eyes, dark and twisted, _apologetic_ , and it has Jensen’s temper fraying at already ragged edges.  
  
“Sick fucks, all of you,” he gets out, hoarse and shaky with anger. “One reason…give me _one reason_ why I shouldn’t call the fucking cops right now.”  
  
Jared licks his lips, leaving them shiny-pink. After a thoughtful beat, his eyes focus intently on Jensen. “You won’t.”  
  
Jensen holds his gaze, reaches into his pocket for his phone. Watches Jared’s lips flatten together as he presses the first two buttons to dial campus patrol. He’s opening his mouth to speak, and then Jared’s there, reaching out even as Jensen raises a fist in warning.  
  
Jared just holds on, one big palm cupping Jensen’s face and forcing Jensen’s chin higher. There’s desperation twisting Jared’s features, sure, but there’s also something else less easy to define. “Do you not want _me_ , or do you not want Delta Sigma?”  
  
“There’s not a goddamn distinction!” Jensen growls, jerking away, but Jared’s having none of it.  
  
“Sure, there is.” Jared’s jaw twitches, and Jensen absolutely does _not_ think about what that prickly flesh would feel like under his tongue. Whether Jared would taste salty from the Texas sun, or sweet like the candy he’s always stuffing down his throat. His voice goes low, quiet. “Me or them, Jen.”  
  
“Get your fucking hands off me.” He says it as calmly as he can manage, knuckles and lips white with strain. He’s shaking so badly he imagines his bones rattling, and isn’t sure if it’s anger or want driving him anymore. The whole situation is fucked, and all he cares about -- when he bothers to admit it to himself -- is just what the hell’s gonna happen to _Jared_ when this is all over.  
  
Jared rolls with it when Jensen shoves him back, wry smile curling his lips. He very deliberately lets Jensen go, lifting both hands in the air in a seeming show of innocence. But before Jensen can say or do anything, he’s backed against the wall, arms and elbows framing his head, Jared’s fingers splayed wide against the plaster.  
  
Jared’s murmur sets his blood on fire, his lips pressed up against the shell of Jensen’s ear. “See, I just don’t think you really mean it, Jensen.”  
  
“Don’t analyze me, you sick bastard.” His voice is too weak, and _goddamn it_ , but Jared’s right. Jensen wants those huge hands on him, in him, wants to beg and plead and spread wide for whatever the hell Jared has in mind to do to him.  
  
 _He wants it._ And Jared knows.  
  
“Tell me not to touch you,” Jared coaxes, throaty and inviting, kicking Jensen’s feet apart so he can slide in closer. He leans in, mouthing the underside of Jensen’s jaw, then snaps his teeth together on a short growl. “And maybe try to make me believe it this time.”  
  
Jensen swallows against the flat of Jared’s tongue, eyes wanting to roll back. “S-So, what. Day 9: get raped? That on the agenda?” He sounds scorched, ragged, like his voice has been dragged over hot coals and through broken glass. “This part of the fucking _process_ , Jared?”  
  
Jared goes still, then he’s got a hand down between them. Jensen hisses a breath and can’t help but rock into the heel of Jared’s palm when it presses hard against his dick. Bitter triumph scores Jared’s voice, laid wide open and defenseless by Jensen’s words. “What are you so damn scared of? That you’ll like it? Like _me?_ ”  
  
Jensen forces out a laugh. “You fucking wish.”  
  
“Yeah, I do.” Sincerity sharpens Jared’s cat-eyes, knotting Jensen’s belly and making him want more than anything to believe it. That this kid’s for real, that he’s not another screwed-up, asshole fratboy playing mindgames.  
  
He licks his lips, but doesn’t reply. Just stares Jared down, cock thrumming against those long fingers and blood pumping thick and hot through his veins.  
  
Jared finally breaks on a strangled groan, head dipping down so that Jensen can’t see anything but a flip of shaggy hair and lashes. “I want you.”  
  
“Course you do,” Jensen mocks softly, ignoring the flash of mulish, wounded pride in Jared’s eyes when he looks up. “But we don’t always get what we want, stud. S’called growing the fuck up.”  
  
Jared moves so fast that one second here’s there, the next Jensen’s got his nose pressed to the wall. His breath catches in his throat on an excited hiss as he backs into the solid weight behind him.  
  
“Still don’t much believe you.” Jared's sharp teeth closing around the lobe of Jensen’s ear, and Jensen sputters through a groan. “Say it, Jen. C’mon, _say it._ ” Jared’s tongue soothes the bite-sting, and Jensen’s cock twitches. “Lemme hear it from that dirty, pretty mouth of yours… _You. Don’t. Want. Me._ ”  
  
It’s on the tip of his tongue, but won’t slide off. Frustrated desire leaps under Jensen’s skin, and he lets out a soft sound when Jared reaches around, hand pressing low on Jensen’s belly and pulling him back. His ass fits snug against Jared’s hips, and Jensen cusses, low and quiet.  
  
“Yeah. Fuck,” Jared agrees, slurring the word in Jensen’s ear as he rolls his pelvis and slips his fingers down to Jensen’s zipper. “Last chance, baby. Better make it count.”  
  
“Fuck you.” It’s hardly a threat, weakened all the more when Jared tugs his pants down to his ankles and Jensen feels warm breath fan across his ass. He glances over his shoulder; Jared’s on his knees, wetting his lips, his eyes hot and keyed up.  
  
“It’d be a pleasure.” He palms Jensen’s cheeks, spreading them wide open. Jensen rolls his forehead against the wall, eyes squeezed tight, and he holds his breath and awaits that first sinful brush of hot-slick velvet.  
  
Jared doesn’t disappoint, and Jensen shudders and pants through his teeth at the warm swipe of tongue. “Oh, fuck yes, then. Lick my ass.” Jensen’s fingers curl, sweat dampening his neck, and Jared chuckles.  
  
“Dirty, pretty mouth,” he murmurs again, and Jensen flushes all over. Locks his knees to keep from buckling under the assault of Jared’s lips and tongue. He drags a forearm up, rests against it while Jared’s fingers dimple his flesh and pull him into a rocking rhythm.  
  
The practical part of him’s shouting -- _this isn’t a good idea, why are you letting this kid eat your ass in a crappy room at some frathouse?_ \-- and then Jared’s tongue curls, twists inside of him. Jensen keens low in his throat and tells practicality to go fuck itself.  
  
He falls into something of a trance, back arched and legs spread, until the sound of the door being thrown open startles him out of it. Jared’s grip goes tight; he hisses “Get out” in as scary a voice as Jensen’s ever heard. The door slams shut, and Jensen trembles when Jared comes to his feet, looming tall behind him.  
  
Foil crinkles in his ear, ripped apart by strong, sure hands, and then, “Gonna fuck you so good. You want that?”  
  
It’s a rough gasp, a promise delivered with a hot lick, and Jensen presses back and groans. “God yeah.”  
  
There’s a slick, slurping sound, and then fingers probing his ass. Jensen tenses up, forces a deep breath and relaxes through Jared’s drawled, “S’right…just open right up for me. Mmm, gonna feel so good inside you, Jen.”  
  
Two fingers, then three. Jensen savors the stretching, twisting, whispers filth and obsenities to match Jared’s while riding long fingers and thinking about cock.  
  
It’s been way too damn long.  
  
“More?” Jensen just nods, expecting another finger, maybe a thumb, but getting hard, blunt pressure instead. “Easy,” Jared breathes, _purrs_ , pulling him back, sinking slow and deep while making the sexiest noises Jensen’s ever heard.  
  
“Still don’t like you.” His voice cracks a little on the third thrust, ripped to shreds by the thick cock spearing his ass. Reaching an arm back, he finds Jared’s neck and pulls that wide, talkative mouth to his. “Fuck me harder.”  
  
“Ask me nicely.” Jared catches Jensen’s bottom lip between his teeth, chewing, rolling his hips. “Beg real pretty, Jen, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”  
  
A spark of anger bursts through Jensen, hot on the heels of a moan of encouragement that he -- thankfully -- manages to swallow in time. “Screw you!”  
  
Jared growls, burying his face in Jensen’s neck and gripping him harder by the hips. Slides almost all the way out, until a whimper escapes Jensen’s throat. “Say please.”  
  
 _Damn it, goddamn it._ He wants to resist, wants to throw Chad’s words back in Jared’s face and make him explain. He also wants to submit, surrender, wants Jared to fucking _take_ and not ask questions. His ass twitches, begging to be filled, but he stays quiet through several beats of panting silence, just quivering with stubborn tension.  
  
Jared strokes his hip, drops a kiss on his shoulder. “Tell me you want me.”  
  
“Back to that?” Jensen grits his teeth, trying to push back, _force_ Jared’s dick back inside him. “Damn it, can’t you just--”  
  
“No.” Final, direct. Nimble fingers slip down to play with his cock, and Jensen bucks into Jared’s fist, head lolling against broad shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine, Jensen.”  
  
 _Christ, I am. **I am.**_ “Not fucking property,” he says out loud, heart thumping hard against his throat. “I want you, but I’m not fucking--”  
  
Jared’s dick drives deep again, cutting Jensen off with a growly gasp, then he takes Jensen’s mouth in a long, wet kiss. “Good enough. For Now.” Jensen’s breath shudders, Jared’s words melting on his tongue like bittersweet chocolate.  
  
Jared’s done teasing; Jensen can tell by the frantic jerk of hips, the soft scrape of latex, the thick, boiling warmth nearly pegging him against the wall with every pump. He reaches between his legs, takes himself in hand and runs the tip of his thumb along his leaking cockhead, wanting to cry at the pressure building behind.  
  
“Christ, m’fuckin’…” he gets out seconds before the first splash burns his fingers, rendering his voice useless. He clamps down hard around Jared, hearing him groan out a curse and rock his hips again.  
  
Jared starts mumbling nonsensically -- “Babybaby, pretty baby, love this…you…” -- and bites down into Jensen’s shoulder so hard Jensen feels the blood bursting to the surface. He’s still wringing his cock dry, listening to Jared ride him through his own orgasm, and thinks, _Oh holy hell, what’m I gonna do now?_  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Blanton Hall.  
Two pledge cycles ago._  
  
  
“I’m gonna do it.”  
  
Jensen rolls over, sheets tangling at his calves, and meets Tom’s glittering gaze in the dark. Gives a soft smile, reaching out to run his hand along the muscle and sinew of Tom’s arm. “Do what, gorgeous?”  
  
Instead of smiling at the endearment, Tom makes a face and pointedly pulls away. Stares at the ceiling and breathes out, “Don’t.”  
  
Jensen’s hot and flushed all over, limbs lax from sex and sleep, but he’s not so out of it that he doesn’t catch the snap of ice in Tom’s voice. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“What’s wrong?” Tom laughs, nothing amusing about the sound, and Jensen’s lips flatten at the corners. “What’s wrong is _this_ , Jensen. I can’t…” He sucks in, ignoring the dumbfounded look Jensen knows is written across his face, and gestures between them. “I’m going Greek and I can’t do this shit anymore.”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jensen’s slightly amazed by how calm he sounds. How calm he _feels_ , considering Tom just pulled the rug out from under him. Just stuck a knife deep in his ribs and twisted. His next breath comes out sharp, ragged. “Since fucking _when_ , Tommy?”  
  
There’s a long beat of silence, and then a sullen, “You wouldn’t understand."   
  
“Maybe because I thought we’d decided against it! It’s _stupid_ and dangerous, and God, Tom, you know how I feel about that shit.” Jensen sits up, shoving a hand through his hair and wondering how an incredible night of fucking and loving turned so quickly into betrayal. When he meets Tom’s gaze again, there’s a shadow there he doesn’t want to label. “When were you gonna tell me?”  
  
“I never meant for any of this to happen.” Tom mumbles it under his breath, dropping Jensen’s gaze. He picks at the sheets, looking like a lost little boy rather than the gorgeous, older co-ed Jensen had picked up at an off-campus club months before. Looking like anything other than the person Jensen had fucking fallen for. Or thought he had, anyway.  
  
“Never meant for what to happen?” His voice freezes in his throat, knuckles going white as he clenches his fists in the sheets. “ _Us?_ ” He expects apology, guilt, maybe. Instead he gets fierce accusation, burning down deep in Tom’s blue eyes.   
  
“Yeah, maybe.” Tom says it low, quiet, but it echoes off the walls like a gunshot, and Jensen distantly thinks he can feel the wound, down deep in his chest. “And that’s pretty much it, right, Jensen?” A frustrated breath, fists rubbing the backs of eyes. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking cynical…you’ve already made up your mind what I am, _who_ I am. There’s no second chances with you. Fuck up once, and time’s run out.”  
  
“You’re right.” His heart’s pounding, and when Tom opens his eyes, stares back at him -- a little sad, a lot resigned -- Jensen’s mouth curls into a smile that hurts his face. “And I guess…I guess ours just ran out, huh?”  
  


	5. Chapter 5

**Title** : 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [5/9]  
 **Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** 2,351  
 **Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
 **Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
[ Previously:](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/286594.html)  
  
 _“Goddamn, you’re so fucking cynical…you’ve already made up your mind what I am, who I am. There’s no second chances with you. Fuck up once, and time’s run out.”  
  
“You’re right.” His heart’s pounding, and when Tom opens his eyes, stares back at him -- a little sad, a lot resigned -- Jensen’s mouth curls into a smile that hurts his face. “And I guess…I guess ours just ran out, huh?”_  
  
  
And now:  
  
  
 _Jensen’s Apartment.  
Pledge Week.  
Day 8._  
  
  
  
It’s near on ten-thirty at night, and Jensen’s been staring at his computer monitor so long he’s starting to imagine a hole burning through the screen, sucking him in and holding him captive. Familiar voices, faces, accusing eyes and bitter betrayal.  
  
A quick glance at the clock shows his deadline’s approach; he shoves back from the desk, yanking rimless frames from his nose and biting off a curse.  
  
Of course, it’s all Jared’s fucking fault. Jensen still smells, tastes, _feels_ the smug prick every time he moves. Every time his fingers stroke the keys, hard-copying the brutal truths of Delta Sigma Pi, he remembers the press of mouth and cock, the hitch of breath: _“Tell me you’re mine, Jensen.”_  
  
“Shit.” It’s edged with desperation, and he rubs a hand down his face. Then louder, more emphatic, “Fuck!”  
  
He has everything he needs. Everything necessary to expose the Delta Sigs is at the tips of his fingers, he just has to write it out. Days of abuse, embarrassment…coupled with the research he and Allie have dug up, it’s _more_ than a death knell for UT’s Greek life, and once in Mike’s capable hands…  
  
Tom would be out. _Forced_ out, whether he likes it or not, and Jensen’s never really had a problem with that. Taking the initiative and protecting his friends from themselves. He’ll go to any lengths to prove he’s right. That he’s always been right, and Tom was _wrong_ and--  
  
Only, it’s not about Tom anymore. Jensen can’t even remember the last time he thought about his ex, his former friend, can’t keep pretending this whole thing hasn’t gotten a helluva lot closer to home since it started.  
  
And the reason why just fucked him up the ass six hours ago.  
  
Jensen’s never been a goddamn saint, but he’s always thought better of himself than this. A hot ass and cute dimples might turn his head, but don’t generally have him pressing against the wall with legs spread and filthy begging on his tongue. There’s a part of him ready and willing to blame Jared for it, for messing with his head, making him want to buy into this shit and believe it actually means something.  
  
The other part has him hiding in his apartment, deadline looming, a blank screen where a tell-all article should be.  
  
A sharp rapping sounds at his door, and Jensen scrubs another hand down his face. Switches the computer to safe-mode, turns and calls for Michael to come in. He’s already imagining excuses and reasons why he’s not ready, trying to anticipate Mike’s response, when the door opens and then Jared’s standing there. Taking up the entire goddamn doorway with spread feet and crossed arms, fucking smirk coloring his features like he _belongs_ there, and Jensen’s just about had it.  
  
“What’re you doing here?” His voice drops those few necessary notches, turning husk-deep and inviting, and Jensen hates himself. Fingers twitching, he fumbles with his glasses and looks back at Jared with clear vision and thrumming pulse. “I thought you were--”  
  
“Someone else,” Jared finishes, tone easy as he shuts the door behind himself. But Jensen’s no idiot, and he doesn’t miss the determined glint in tip-tilted hazel. A small thrill rushes up Jensen’s spine--he doesn’t know what to expect with Jared--and he shifts in his seat. His inseam feels tighter than before, cock thicker, heat flushing from the inside-out.  
  
It isn’t until Jared smiles, sharp and direct, that Jensen realizes he’s sitting there staring. Shoulders straightening, he clears his throat and forces himself to remember: he’s not on anyone’s time clock, not now. His after-hours don’t belong to the Deltas or Jared or anyone but himself.  
  
“I’m a little busy, Jared.” He makes it as dismissive as possible, swiveling in his chair until he can fiddle with the papers and books littering the desk. Thankfully none of them involve the fraternity scandal. He pretends to leaf through the textbook for his photojournalism class.  
  
“But not too busy for ‘Mikey’.” Jensen goes still when those large palms settle on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. He’s determining his next course of action when Jared’s breath brushes warm against his ear. A beat of silence, then a soft chuckle. “Those glasses are really fucking hot.”  
  
Having expected some kind of brute show of jealousy at the very least--and, okay, possibly hoping for one, as well--Jensen cocks his head. The shell of his ear presses against Jared’s mouth and Jared’s lips part, take it inside, and a pencil slips out of Jensen’s fingers. “Shit.”  
  
“Too busy for this?” Jared murmurs between gentle flicks of his tongue, and Jensen shudders a little, slides down in his seat. Jared’s hands have started a light massage, fingertips pressing into Jensen’s shoulders, down his arms to white knuckles clenched into tight fists.  
  
“Um.” Jensen blinks slowly, watching Jared’s fingers cover his own, Jared’s soft panting in his ear, and it’s like he’s right back in Jared’s bedroom. Riding Jared’s dick and coming all over his own fucking hand. “I uh, what’re you…”  
  
He trails off, Jared’s mouth moving under his jaw, and Jensen lets out a sound that he definitely doesn’t want to own up to. Ever. One hand balled against his thigh, Jensen brings the other up and behind him, taking Jared by the hair and dragging his face closer.  
  
Even when Jared’s lips meet his own, tongue stifling another self-satisfied chuckle, Jensen knows exactly what this is about. He doesn’t have any illusions; it’s all just another powerplay. Wishful thinking otherwise is just that.  
  
With Jared’s hand already jerking at the waistband of his sweatpants, shoving past to take Jensen’s dick between long fingers, Jensen gives in and fucks over guilt and regret.  
  
“I wanna suck.” A rough gasp, and Jensen’s surprised that the voice belongs to Jared and not himself. God knows he’s thinking the same thing--Jared’s dark-flushed cock bruising his throat, salt-bitter wetting his lips, while he thrusts up and into Jared’s fist. Stares through half-lidded eyes when Jared goes to his knees, spreads Jensen’s thighs wide. His head falls back, and, fingers tangling in messy curls, he lifts his hips to let Jared pull cotton sweats down past his hips.  
  
“Look at me,” Jared says, _demands_ , still too fucking soft for Jensen to do anything but obey. When he does, meeting glittering hazel, Jared’s intentions are written plain as day across his flushed, excited features. _See who’s doing this to you. See that you’re mine, and stop running._  
  
Jensen wants to argue the point. Can’t find the words necessary for debate when pretty-pink lips wrap around him, suck down slow, and then Jensen’s swearing and biting into a fist. Taking, screwing Jared’s mouth.  
  
In fucking control.  
  
“That’s right.” Jared groans, vibrating around his dick, and Jensen squirms. Takes Jared’s head between his hands and _shuts him the fuck up._ He doesn’t want to hear it now, doesn’t want to think about what he’s doing, or why. Just wants to fuck an imprint of himself on Jared’s lips. Wants to make him suffer, same way Jensen’s been since the beginning.  
  
But the problem is, Jared’s taking it. _Letting_ Jensen use him and fuck his mouth wide open and, oh god. Jensen bites his lip, grips Jared’s hair and spills hot into Jared’s mouth, aiming for tongue and getting chin and cheek in the process. Jared’s lashes flutter, come dripping from flashing dimples, and Jensen stares stupidly at the sight. His chest is heaving, he’s out of breath, and Jared’s just kneeling there and watching him like he’s expecting…what?  
  
Whatever it is, Jensen isn’t ready to give it. Never will be.  
  
Jared licks swollen lips, sits back on his heels and drags the hem of his shirt up and over his face, wiping himself clean. When it comes, his voice is husky, bruised. Fucked-out.  
  
“I can wait a damn long time, Jensen.”  
  
And it sounds like his fate being sealed.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Erwin Center.  
Day 3._  
  
  
Jensen reads over Jared’s note for the third, fourth, time, and crumples it up with a curse. He’s a pretty good public speaker, doesn’t get nervous in front of crowds--especially not the doe-eyed, eager freshmen lining up outside the Erwin Center like Justin Timberlake’s expected to perform.  
  
Instead of just a group of harassed frat pledges giving a goddamn sex-ed lecture.  
  
He glances over and catches the eye of one of the other pledges. Jason-something-or-another, and Jensen identifies the flash of nervous tension darkening the guy’s eyes. Feeling a spark of sympathy, he walks over and studies the table littered with bananas and condoms and--oh good Christ, are those anal beads?—bites back a sigh.  
  
“Great,” he mutters, taking in the ever-growing number of students piling into the auditorium with varying degrees of excitement and amusement. He’s pretty sure he recognizes some of the faces, and they don’t just belong to UT newbies. But of course the Deltas would play fast and loose with the details.  
  
“Seriously, they want us to…” Jason waves a hand toward the toys, face turning a frightening shade of crimson. “In front of all these people? What the fuck for?”  
  
_Where the hell have you been?_ Jensen thinks nastily, but manages a smile for the sake of the guy’s nerves. “It’s all just a game, kid. Play by the rules and you’ll make it out alive.”  
  
“Okay, let’s get started!” a perky blonde cheerleader-type says from across the stage, and a burst of wild applause comes up from the back of the building. Jensen looks out and immediately recognizes Chad, zooms in on Jared’s grinning face.   
  
_Son of a bitch._  
  
The rest of the Deltas are present and accounted for, and Jensen notices several of the other frats have decided to show their faces for the day’s event, as well. Various colors and crests decorate a mass majority of the audience, and Jensen smiles and hates them all just a little bit more.  
  
“So,” the Britney Spears wannabe chirps, and Jensen stifles a yawn. “If our presenters will just take a seat, I’ll open the floor for questions.”   
  
Jensen grabs a folding chair, sits stiffly. He waits through the pledge introductions, watches them all be put through various embarrassing acts. Explaining how to put on a condom, mutual masturbation--none of it has to do with safe sex. Of course, it’s not really supposed to. Judging by the red-faces of all the pledges as they hang themselves on the Delta Sigma noose, it’s just another successful bout of hazing.  
  
Chalk one up for the Assholes.  
  
“Jensen Ackles!” Blondie calls while Jason passes by after successfully rolling a Trojan down a cucumber. During the laughter and jeering, Jensen stands up, feels the spotlight wash over him hot and blinding, and brings a hand up to shield his eyes. Looks out into the audience, daring anyone to open their fucking mouth.  
  
“I gotta question.” The familiar drawl is more than expected, and Jensen finally makes himself look at Jared again. The second their eyes meet, Jared’s lips spread, white teeth set against tanned flesh. Jensen shifts on his feet, looks away and chokes on a silent curse.  
  
“My ex-girlfriend couldn’t blow me to save her life,” Jared says, voice loud and provocative, while several whistles and cat-calls immediately start up around the room. Jensen bites his tongue, holds Jared’s gaze as he adds in a low purr, “Why don’t you show us all how a guy really likes it, Jensen. And watch the teeth.”  
  
“All right, all right, ladies! Pay attention!”  
  
Someone nudges him, and Jensen glances over amidst raucous laughter to see a flesh-colored dildo thrust at him. He takes it, contemplates throwing it at Jared’s fat head, but in the end the challenge is too much to resist. He can see their faces, knows they’re all expecting him to protest, freak out and refuse.  
  
He forces an easy smile, fingers the ridiculously large replica of a dick. “Well, first thing, you gotta pace yourself.”   
  
Five minutes later, he has a mouthful of rubber cock and a captivated audience. If he’s ever been good at one thing, it’s getting people’s attention, so he puts it to good use now. Makes eye contact with each of the Delta Brothers, something waspish and satisfying heating up his blood as he notes the surprise and approval slowly taking over their expressions.   
  
Jared’s staring at him with flattened lips, but his eyes are heavy and dark. Jensen flicks his tongue along the dildo, watches Jared shift, and snorts to himself. Swallows the dick again around a wicked grin.  
  
“Hope you’re watching, Crystal!” someone yells, prompting another surge of laughter, and regardless of confidence, heat spreads up Jensen’s neck. Rubber and plastic flavor his tongue, and Jared’s hot gaze burns long after the spotlight goes dark.  
  
With applause thundering around him, Jensen takes his seat again and folds defiant arms across his chest. Jared’s out there, somewhere, and Jensen wants to know: _that all you got, kid?_  
  
“I can’t fucking believe you just did that,” Jason mutters. “I just…fucking hell, man.”  
  
Jensen shrugs, licks his teeth and avoids the younger guy’s gaze. “It’s what they’re here to see.”   
  
“Yeah but, don’t you care that they might think you’re…you know.” The guy clears his throat. “And kick you out?”  
  
“Gay?” Jensen finishes the unsaid question, reporter’s sense tingling. “They can’t discriminate against race or sexual orientation.”  
  
“Dude, they just made you deep-throat a dildo in front of a hundred-something people. They can do whatever the fuck they want.”  
  
_If I get in, I can get whatever I want. Everything I need.  
  
Jen, I need you to support me in this._  
  
Jensen closes his eyes, rubs his forehead and wishes away the familiar argument. “It’s not everything you need.”  
  
“What?” Jason sounds confused, and Jensen feels a pang of regret tear through his chest.  
  
_Fuck you, Tommy._  
  
He tries for a smile that falls flat, and sees Jared approaching from the corner of his eye. “Forget it.”   
  
_I wish_ **I** could.  
  


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [6/9]  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating/Warnings:** NC-17 | graphic m/m sex, real person fiction, spanking, rimming, delayed orgasm, and various other kinks.  
**Word Count:** 4138 (this part)  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
  
 

  
fanart by [ ](http://mkitty3.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mkitty3.livejournal.com/)**mkitty3**.  
  
**'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear: Part 6.  
By keepaofthecheez.**

  
  
[ Previously:](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/340731.html)   
  
_Jensen’s never been a goddamn saint, but he’s always thought better of himself than this. A hot ass and cute dimples might turn his head, but don’t generally have him pressing against the wall with legs spread and filthy begging on his tongue. There’s a part of him ready and willing to blame Jared for it, for messing with his head, making him want to buy into his shit and believe it actually means something._  
  
  
And now:  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Frat Row, ΔΣΠ House  
Day 7._  
  
  
Fig leaves.   
  
“Fig leaves?” Jensen hears the whine in his voice and clenches his jaw tight against it. Tries to cross his legs standing up, cursing everyone in a fifteen mile radius. “This job is getting old, so fast.”  
  
“It’s a very pretty fig leaf,” Mike says, but he won’t quite look Jensen in the eye. Just takes another swig from the flask in his hand and makes a face when three fratboys set up a beer bong under the ancient Sycamore serving as a landmark in the Delta Sig backyard.  
  
Jensen’s balls are itching from the precariously placed plant, but goddamn if he’s gonna give in and scratch. He’s pretty sure his ass is sunburned, too, and he entertains a brief, vindictive fantasy of making Michael be the one to rub aloe vera on it when this bullshit is all said and done.  
  
“I hate toga parties,” he says to no one in particular, swiping a cup of questionable content from the closest picnic bench. “What do you think, Mikey? Will it put me in the hospital and end this miserable existence?”  
  
“Then you’d just be in a hospital wearing nothing but a fig leaf.” Mike finally spares him a quick glance, then swallows back something that sounds suspiciously like a snort. “Just be thankful, I hear this day used to be called Naked Waiter.”  
  
Jensen goes stiff, a litany of filth burning the tip of his tongue, and then there’s a husky laugh. A heavy arm comes around his shoulders, and Jensen finds himself pulled up tight against muscle and bone.   
  
“Not anymore, thank God.” Jared hiccups around a goofy grin. Crisp white sheets are gathered at his shoulder, sagging down to play peek-a-boo with a tight nipple as Jared sways to the side. Squeezes Jensen, drink spilling over. Jared doesn’t seem to notice, too busy gazing over Jensen’s ridiculous getup in more than a little admiration. “No one else gets to see what’s under that fig leaf, hmm, Jen?”  
  
Ignoring the seductive drawl and Mike’s raised brow, Jensen takes in the pink stain spreading across Jared’s thigh, eyes flickering up to the sky. They’ve been there all of an hour, and Jared hasn’t wasted any time getting, well, wasted. What’s worse is that Jared Padalecki’s a very, _very_ tactile drunk--Jensen’s got fingerprints smudged in places that would make him blush if they were visible, made worse by the fact that, well.   
  
He’s only wearing a motherfucking fig leaf. Christ, he hates toga parties.  
  
“So you’ve said,” Mike murmurs--unhelpfully--from behind his flask, and Jensen just scowls. Turns toward Jared with as much interest as he can feign on his features.  
  
“So, why nix the naked waiter…ing?” _And more importantly, who grew a fucking brain?_  
  
“Eh, before my time, but I guess the last Grand Polemarch didn’t like it. Too ‘uncouth’.” Jared emphasizes with his fingers, splashing himself pink again, and Jensen refuses to admit it’s kind of cute. He shakes himself upon realizing he’s all but staring at Jared with something scarily bordering fondness. Jared scratches his nose and adds offhandedly, “Chris was a pledge then, he probably knows all about it.”  
  
There’s a moment of awkward silence as Jensen slants Mike a glare, and Mike clears his throat. Jared seems none the wiser, but Jensen’s cheeks are burning and his fingers clench against his naked thigh as Jared keeps on talking.   
  
“But that’s old news, anyway.” His teeth gleam, and then Jensen feels big hands low on his back. Blinks, and Jared’s _right there_ , nose-to-mouth, and, oh god. They’re in the middle of the fucking Delta Sig’s backyard barbecue and his boss isn’t five feet away. Jared licks his lips, gaze burning, voice soft and way too familiar. “Right now’s what’s important.”  
  
Jensen opens his mouth to say… _something_ , but the wires get crossed somewhere around the time Jared’s hand dips lower and cups a cheek. “Goddamn Beauty, love your ass,” he slurs quietly, and Jensen goes red, and hard. All over. Jared’s just watching him, savoring every shuddering breath Jensen’s trying to hide, fingering his crack now like Jensen’s still got that goddamn thong wedged up in it and, god, so bad. _So good_.  
  
“Ah, Jensen?” Mike’s voice is clear and sharp above the fog in Jensen’s head, and he lists away from Jared and meets his friend’s gaze. Jared makes a frustrated sound behind him, crowds up close until he’s chest to Jensen’s back, and Jensen grinds his teeth.  
  
“Get lost,” Jared directs toward Mike, suddenly aware of Michael’s presence again, and apparently recognizing him, as well. “I don’t give a damn how friendly you are with _el presidente…_ my pledge, my time.”  
  
Well. If Jensen had needed a reminder…  
  
He looks up, blinks long, innocent lashes, and elbows Jared right in the gut. His big Brother sucks in a sharp breath, and Jensen’s smile edges toward malice. “Oops.”  
  
“Fucking sumbitch!” Jared yells out, holding his side like he’s severely wounded, and Jensen starts to roll his eyes at the public display of overdramatic asshattery. Several nearby people glance their way, expressions ranging from drunken curiosity to irritation, and then Jensen catches sight of something that makes the smile curdle on his face.  
  
Familiar blue eyes widen back at him, and Jensen staggers forward on a torn breath. “Tommy?”  
  
Michael cusses somewhere behind him, Jared’s still bitching, but Jensen’s suddenly too numb to care about either. He hasn’t seen Tom in, Christ, has it been six months? Maybe more? They’d played at being friends for a while after the end, but the last time they’d been in the same room had been when Tom announced his pledge pickup from the Sigmas. It also marked the last occasion Jensen had been well and truly drunk off his so-called sweet ass.  
  
The rest as they say, was history.  
  
He’s halfway across the yard, chest tight and something like a smile twisting his lips-- _god, he looks **good**_ \--and then he’s in front of Tom. Staring at the ridiculous toga and the fig leaf behind Tom’s ear, those pretty pink lips curved into surprise, and Jensen realizes he feels…nothing. Nothing outside of friendly pleasure and concern, and it’s more staggering than if he’d taken one look at Tom and fallen all over again.  
  
“Hi,” Tom finally says, voice tight and uncertain, and his gaze flickers over Jensen’s shoulder for all of a second. Then it’s back, bigger and brighter than before. Pissed off. “So, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em?”  
  
Jensen blinks at the harsh snap, then remembers where he _is_. What he’s after, and Tom’s no idiot. Not at all, and Christ Mike’s possibly going to kill him. “Uh, it’s not what--”  
  
“Steve said something about you being, well.” Tom flushes a bit, scratches the back of his neck and waves a hand. His next words come out on a mumble that Jensen has to strain to hear. “Something about money, I guess.”  
  
“What?” Jensen doesn’t even know whether to laugh or be insulted.  
  
“Is that why you’re doing this?” It’s probably meant as an accusation, but then Tom’s a nicer guy than Jensen ever really gave him credit for, and it just sounds understanding. Accepting. “Because they can get you anything you need, you know that, right?”  
  
All at once, everything clicks into place. Steve, his words back at the bar back when this entire misadventure had started. Jensen jumps onto the lie with only a smidgeon of a guilty conscience. “Yeah, well…yeah.”  
  
There’s a beat of awkward silence, then Tom clears his throat. “You could’ve come to me, you know.”  
  
_Yeah, that would’ve been just peachy_ , Jensen’s sarcasm intones. _Considering you could barely look at me. Much less loan me twenty-five grand I don’t even need. Fuck!_  
  
Out loud he just shrugs, says, “Yeah, well.”  
  
Tom’s lips part to speak again, and then Jared’s there. Gaze bright green and flashing hot, and Jensen takes an instinctive step backward. “Jared,” he starts, glimpsing the jealousy burning practically into Jared’s bones, and refusing to acknowledge the small thrill that bubbles up in his belly.  
  
Jared interrupts, voice a low and thready thrum that vibrates up Jensen’s spine and down to his toes. “Shut up. Don’t say a fucking word or I swear I’ll bend you over a goddamn bench and make you feel it for a week.”   
  
Jensen’s words trail off and die, two bright flags of color in his cheeks. It’s the first time Jared’s outright _ridiculed_ him, and he was quiet, but there’s no mistaking that at least _one_ person overheard. Tom’s staring at him now with a look Jensen can’t identify, and Jensen feels naked, exposed, and it has nothing to do with any motherfucking fig leaf.  
  
“Fuck you,” he finally gets out, shoving past Jared’s huffing, puffing form, and makes his way blindly toward the Delta House. Gets about ten feet before he’s pulled up short, spun around to find Jared glowering down at him and Jensen vaguely thinks that he should maybe be worried. Jared’s a _giant_ , after all, and apparently possesses a temper far greater than Jensen ever credited to the overgrown manchild, but he’s too pissed off to care. Too fucking _hurt_ , truth be told.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jared says, much calmer, sober, than before, but the damage has been done. They’re getting looks from all over now, and Jensen sees Chris and Mike standing together. Matching expressions color their faces and have him standing tall and thrusting a hand up and between him and Jared.   
  
“Gotta piss.” Good a lie as anything, and Jared’s eyes narrow at the explanation. Jensen turns around, only to get a hand around the wrist again, Jared’s face a mess of mottled frustration. He’s off his game, and it gives Jensen enough of an edge to relax, let a challenging smile lift his lips.  
  
“Need help controlling your pledge, Padalecki?” Chad calls from somewhere behind them, and Jared’s back snaps straight when a few people laugh. He remains silent, and Jensen presses closer…amped up on anger and heat and everything primal.  
  
“Gonna hold it for me, too? I’ll just be a minute.” he drawls softly, voice pleasant enough, but he knows Jared hears the razor’s edge scoring his words. Just like he knows Jared doesn’t believe them for a second. Jensen’ll be out of there the second he turns his back, and Jared’s mouth twists with the knowledge. Jensen stares back at him, helpless frustration mixing with something heady and intoxicating when Jared pulls him up close.  
  
Then Jared’s grinning big, and it’s a little like staring into a supernova. “Smile and play nice, baby,” Jared mutters through his teeth, and Jensen can’t quite swallow the moan when Jared’s fingers squeeze into his hip. Dragging blood to the surface, _marking._  
  
“Be right back,” Jared addresses to the group at large, steadily pulling Jensen backward toward the house. “Got a sudden hankering for fresh fruit.” His voice rings out chock full of casual cheer, and if Jensen hadn’t witnessed the scene himself, he’d have almost believed it.   
  
Instead, his words make Jensen frown, and when Chad nearly chokes on his beer and Chris’s face goes pained, Jensen realizes he’s missed something. By then they’re in the house, and he jerks away from Jared the minute the door closes. Mouth open, curses at the ready.  
  
He gets as far as “What the fuck are you--” before he’s shoved up against the door, Jared’s lips hot on his throat. He goes silent, swallowing against Jared’s tongue and flexing his fingers against the oak door. It’s not submission, exactly, but he’s sure as hell not trying to get away. His eyes go half-lidded and Jared purrs his approval.  
  
When Jared finally pulls back, having sucked what Jensen fears will be a pretty fucking spectacular bruise against his neck, his expression clearly reads Do Not Fuck With Me Right Now. Jensen lets out a sharp breath when Jared smiles. Slow, dangerous.  
  
“Phase two of today’s game,” Jared says, circling around Jensen like a vulture. “Cater to your Brother. And I feel like something sweet.”  
  
He drawls it out, extending the vowels so it comes out _sweeeeet_ , and Jensen’s hit with a Technicolor replay of being collared and spanked, jerked off with a thong wrapped around his ankles. An almost hysterical voice inside him wonders _what next?_ It’s drowned out by the part of him ready and willing to do anything to get rid of this itch that’s taken residence inside him ever since he looked up and saw hazel eyes eating him alive.  
  
Seeming to realize his capitulation, Jared’s expression softens and he nods toward the stairs. “Upstairs. And be there, okay?” The last is meant to be a warning, but it comes out almost desperate, pleading, and Jensen finds himself returning the nod and knowing he’ll keep his word.  
  
He turns toward the staircase, tosses off a hesitant look over his shoulder. Jared’s simply standing there, watching him go. When Jensen’s eyes meet his, he thrusts his chin up like a dare, and Jensen grinds his jaw.   
  
He hasn’t backed down from a thing since this all began. He’ll be damned if he does so now.  
  
Jared makes him wait, all but sealing Jensen’s coming punishment and also giving Jensen time to overthink. Oddly enough, it isn’t the fact that he saw Tommy again, that Mike might have a head’s up, that lingers on his mind. It’s the look in Jared’s eyes, the possessive touch when there’s nothing that belongs.  
  
Three times he gets up from Jared’s bed, gets as far as the dresser drawers before cussing and turning back around. Slumping against the wall and rubbing a hand down his face. Everything’s spiraling out of control, he can admit it now, and he’s no fucking clue how to fix any of it.  
  
And he’s still not leaving.  
  
As if that’s just the realization Jared’s been waiting for, his Brother’s figure darkens the doorway and Jensen snaps to attention. It’s a little difficult to have a Mexican standoff when he’s got a piece of foliage taped to his dick and Jared’s wrapped up in his bedsheets, but here they are.  
  
Jared steps fully inside the room, closes the door with a soft _snick_. “Lay down,” he says, soft and persuasive, and Jensen moves to comply before he realizes the command.  
  
He scrambles to shaky knees, eyes wide, and waits for Jared to acknowledge the slip in his composure. Curses himself for it, fingers digging into his palms and fire burning like brandy in his throat.  
  
Instead of saying anything at all, Jared just walks over to the closet. Reaches up and unfastens the toga from his shoulder while rummaging around for a shirt. Jensen has all of a second’s warning, and then he’s staring at the full Padalecki moon and wondering when he turned into a blushing, virginal girl.  
  
He shifts closer, intrigued by the smattering of beauty marks across Jared’s spine, dimpling his ass. His dick presses against his belly, and he swallows wryly. _All right, maybe not all that virginal._  
  
Jared tugs on a blue rugby, some sweatshorts that’ve seen better days, then looks back at Jensen. He lets out a little sigh, crossing his arms and sending Jensen a plea from under floppy bangs. “C’mon, now. It doesn’t have to be that bad.”  
  
For whatever reason, it’s enough to light Jensen’s fuse. “You’ve got a lot of goddamn nerve,” he starts, laughing without humor and hearing the quake of anger in his own voice.  
  
“Do I?” Jared sounds completely chill. “Because best I recall, it was _you_ down there showin’ off, Beauty.”  
  
“Don’t fucking call me that!” It’s too much, not enough, and he’s starting to unravel at the seams. “Jesus, this whole thing is just…what the hell was I _thinking?_ You’re all crazy, I _know_ that, and.” He stops, biting his lip and staring out the window in more than a little annoyance. “Goddamn!”  
  
“What were you talkin’ about down there, with that _guy?_ ” Jared sneers it like Tom’s a damn hobo Jensen picked up off the street, and the little display of envy does little more than make him snort.  
  
“What’re you gonna do to me?” he counters instead, standing up and staring Jared straight in the eye. “What is it this time, Jared…whips, chains, handcuffs?” He moves closer, voice rising with sarcasm. “Wax me down and tattoo your name on my private parts? _What?_ ”  
  
“What did Tom mean?” Jared says again, but there’s a crack in his voice that Jensen doesn’t miss. “Why would you need money?”  
  
“The fuck business is it of yours?” Jensen answers without even thinking. His financial problems aren’t even an issue, barely graze the tip of the iceberg when it comes down to it. He’s gotten himself in way deeper than anything a quick loan could get him out of, anyway.  
  
Jared moves so fast, Jensen blinks and then he’s flat-out on the mattress. Jared’s face hovers over his, a tic in his jaw that Jensen wants to lick across. Hates himself for it. “You’re my business,” Jared says, growls, hot and heavy and everything Jensen wants but won’t dare ask for. “When are you gonna fucking realize that, _pledge?_ From the minute you walked through those doors, you. Are. Mine.”  
  
“Bullshit,” Jensen gets out, bringing his elbow up to blacken Jared’s eye. Jared just pulls back, _laughing_ , licking his lips and staring down at Jensen with playful light in his gaze.  
  
“Yeah, that’s it. Punish me, then. Swear I won’t even put up a strugg--”  
  
Jensen’s fist catches his lip, and Jared’s head snaps back from the force. Blood’s dripping down his chin when Jensen gets a good look, and then Jensen pounces. Pins Jared to the bed, hands over his head and teeth bared in a snap.  
  
Jared’s breathing heavy, watching him with a blur of pupil, tongue touching the corner of his mouth. He winces a little at the taste, then grins. “Feel good?” he breathes, and Jensen’s fingers tighten until he’s sure Jared’ll have rings around his wrists come morning.  
  
“Shut the fuck up,” he says, mimicking and embellishing Jared’s words from earlier, and something flashes behind those green-brown eyes.  
  
Then Jared’s saying, “Sorry, m’sorry” and whispering it against Jensen’s neck, and _licking_ , and, Christ, Jensen gives in with a shudder and grinds his dick down against Jared’s thigh.  
  
“Fucking asshole,” he grits out while Jared rips the stupid fig leaf away, drops his head and groans when Jared jacks him slow and steady. “Fucking…oh god, don’t. Don’t--”  
  
“What, Jensen.” A whine, almost.  
  
“…don’t _stop_!” Jensen breaks, lifts his jaw and finds Jared’s mouth. It’s a kiss, but nothing satisfying about it. The clash of teeth and tongue just serve to drive his pulse higher, the faint coppery flavor making his head spin in circles. He’s got Jared’s shorts down his hips before he realizes the sound Jared’s making is because Jensen’s hand is around his dick. Stroking, pulling, aching for that surrender that’ll somehow put them back on an even keel.  
  
“Come on.” He watches Jared’s eyes, squeezes his cock and almost tastes salt-bitter victory, seconds before it splashes hot and branding against his forearm. Jared wraps a leg around his hip, throat bobbing and keening through his teeth as he humps Jensen’s fingers, wrung out and glazed over.  
  
Jensen wipes his palm against the sheets, buries his face in the crook of Jared’s neck, smells sweat and come. A few shallow thrusts, and he’s coming with a short cry and Jared’s got a hand in his hair. Holding on tight, whispering words in Jensen’s ear that he can’t, or won’t, listen to.  
  
When it’s over, when he can look again, Jared’s smiling up at him and it’s prettier than a California sunrise.  
  
“I was just, uh, gonna have you feed me some grapes. You know?”   
  
His voice is soft, a little shy, even, and Jensen covers his face with an arm and can’t believe it’s _laughter_ threatening to choke him.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Office: The Daily Texan  
Day 5._  
  
  
“Good practice today,” Allie calls out, patting Jensen on the shoulder as she passes by. “Not that I give a damn about baseball. Still…the uniforms are a plus. And there’s sweat. A lot of sweat. Boy sweat. Boys.”   
  
Jensen glances up, grin lighting his features at the gleam in her eyes. “Aw, sugar, you _came_ ,” he teases, rocking back in his chair and lacing his fingers over his belly. “Mike, how much did you pay her?” He yells over his shoulder, getting smacked in the forehead with a paper clip for his efforts.  
  
“Jerk.” She laughs, ducking the stapler Jensen tosses back. “Hey!”  
  
“Hag,” he returns, pushing his glasses up his nose and turning back to the monitor in front of him. “Mike, make Allie grow up?” he wheedles, then abruptly realizes his friend-cum-boss isn’t answering his desperate calls for help. “Mike?”  
  
“He’s in the back with an ‘important source’,” Allie quotes with an eyeroll. “Seriously, I think he’s taking the Clark Kent role a little too seriously. I mean, well, look at you, for example.”  
  
“Bite me,” Jensen says, but without much heat. Much. “And I volunteered.”  
  
“Because you’re insane. Gorgeous,” she sighs, woefully shaking her head. “But insane.”  
  
“Not insane. Resourceful. _Darlin’._ ”  
  
The look she sends him is dangerously sweet and sends chills down Jensen’s spine. Never a good sign. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about your plans for the evening, then,” she singsongs, and Jensen’s eyes narrow.  
  
“I’ve already checked in with the Deltas.” Meaning, he’d avoided Jared until he could no longer and raced past the bulletin board at the Delta house to check for any pledge news. “They’ve got a fundraiser deal tonight, honoring some doctor who’s gonna pledge a shitload to ‘the cause’. Members only, so us lowly pledges are good to go. Or not go, as the case may be.”  
  
Allie snorts into her hand, then cackles outright and turns back to her own computer. Jensen frowns, sitting up straighter.  
  
“Allie.” Nothing but a shaking of shoulders, insane giggling, and Jensen’s really starting to sweat through his t-shirt. “ _Allie_ , girl you better tell me what you--”  
  
“Jensen, glad you’re here,” Mike interrupts. Jensen glares at the back of Allie’s head and thinks dirty, evil thoughts he hopes she hears before turning toward Michael. “There’s been a change of plans. Check your messages when you get back to your place…you’re going on a date-run tonight, buddy.”  
  
“A…date-run?” Jensen’s half-tempted to tack on a _sir_ , and immediately wants to scowl. The fucking Deltas and their fucking system has him all tied up in knots and it’s only day five. For Christ’s sake.  
  
Allie’s laughing louder now, and Jensen tosses her an irritated look while Mike continues, “Jared’ll explain, I’m sure. You just make sure you’re there, and you’re ready.”   
  
Jensen tosses off a mock-salute, pouting a little as the idea of an evening alone with a pizza and his right hand goes up in a film of smoke. “Great.”  
  
“Listen, Jensen…” Mike starts, and there’s something hesitant in his tone that immediately grabs Jensen’s attention. Right then and there, he knows that whatever his friend is about to reveal is going to be worse, oh so much more worse than a fucking date-run. “There’s something I’ve sort of not mentioned to you.”  
  
“Sort of not mentioned,” Jensen echoes, nearly hearing the sound of thunder and lightning over his head. “Mike?”  
  
“You’re not exactly the first to work this job,” Mike says, the gleam in his eye almost…apologetic? “As you know, we’ve had an inside source for some time now, but there’ve been some. Issues. That’ve made it necessary to bring you in.”  
  
“What the hell are you goin’ on about?” Jensen finally cuts to the chase, and even Allie’s quiet and watching them with a curious, half-worried look in her eye. “You’re startin’ to sound a little Miami Vice, dude.”  
  
Michael clears his throat, then gives the weakest smile Jensen’s ever been able to attribute to his wily friend, and moves out from the doorway of his office. “Meet your, um, partner? No, that’s not right. He’s just…well…” Mike bites off his own words, then just clears his throat again and looks away.  
  
There’s a shadowy outline behind him that Jensen can’t quite make out, and then when he does, he wants to swallow his tongue and crawl under the desk. Possibly maim himself. Get up close and personal with a rope and a hook.  
  
“Howdy there, pledge.” Christian Kane’s rumbly voice fills the small office, and Jensen stares at the Delta Sigma president with something akin to horror when Chris smiles, teeth bright and gleaming. “You gonna play on my turf, boy, you’re gonna play by my rules and stay outta my way. Got me?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [7/9]  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating/Warnings:** NC-17 | graphic m/m sex, real person fiction, spanking, rimming, delayed orgasm, and various other kinks.  
**Word Count:** 3973 (this part)  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the time-frame at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
  
 

  
  
**'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear: Part 7.  
By keepaofthecheez.**

  
  
[ Previously:](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/394400.html#cutid1)   
  
_“Howdy there, pledge.” Christian Kane’s rumbly voice fills the small office, and Jensen stares at the Delta Sigma president with something akin to horror when Chris smiles, teeth bright and gleaming. “You gonna play on my turf, boy, you’re gonna play by my rules and stay outta my way. Got me?”_  
  
  
And now:  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Frat Row, ΔΣΠ House  
Day 9._  
  
  
Jensen’s not real sure what the hell he’s doing outside Frat Row on a Friday afternoon when he’s got nothing but free-time and _nothing_ to do with Jared. He’s done his Delta duty for the day, and shifts uncomfortably on his seat at the reminder. Feels the burn down deep, blows out a slow breath.  
  
His Jeep idles on the corner, Delta House in clear view, and he curses himself three times over when a fire engine-red pickup pulls up in front of him. Hopes it’s not gonna be Chris that gets outta that truck; not a confrontation Jensen needs at the moment. Then it doesn't matter, and it’s too late to turn back when Jared hops out, bag slung over his shoulder and grin on his face as he says something to the other guys that have them all laughing loud.  
  
Jared’s laugh is the loudest of all, though, or maybe just the one Jensen knows the best. The thought settles down in his belly, warm and precarious, and he slumps down in his seat and nibbles on his lip while watching Jared slap the back of the truck. Turn toward Delta House and sprint on up the sidewalk.  
  
He gets about as far as the pink garden flamingo the frat’s graciously named Bob, and then stills. Jensen’s breath twists in his throat, and then Jared’s staring straight at him. Jensen’s not sure he can _see_ him, exactly, but there’s no mistaking the look that comes over Jared’s features. The surprise, pleasure, followed up and chased by a cocky smile as he starts back down and toward Jensen’s Jeep.  
  
_Well, it’s what you came here for, Ackles, you pathetic fuck._ He rolls down the driver’s side window and gives up a little blessing for the sunglasses hiding his gaze. Lending him at least a pale shadow of dignity. Jared reaches him and Jensen offers a tight smile that belies the rush of adrenaline in his veins.  
  
“Hey.” It’s more curiosity than interest that flavors Jared’s voice, and a knot loosens somewhere in Jensen’s chest at the familiar sound, face. Jared’s grin is as quick as a wink, voice going lower, more than friendly. “Miss me already?”  
  
“I--” Jensen swallows. _Yeah. Yeah, I did. Goddamn it._ “I was just…around,” he says lamely, half-expecting Jared to call him out right then and there. But he just keeps watching Jensen, arm resting on top of the window and rucking his shirt up high enough that Jensen can glimpse tight muscle underneath. It throws him off, makes his voice shakier than before. “Finished class for the day and I just…”  
  
He trails off when Jared abruptly turns and walks away, then stares as he rounds the front bumper and pulls open the passenger side door. Jensen twists back around, stares straight out the windshield with his fingers white-knuckled and heart thumping.   
  
“Let’s get out of here,” is all Jared says, leaning back into the seat and snapping on a stick of gum Jensen hadn’t even noticed him pop into his mouth. He looks way too comfortable there, in Jensen’s car, in Jensen’s goddamn _life_ , and Jensen vaguely wonders if he’d overlooked being asthmatic for years because he cannot fucking _breathe._  
  
But then he’s throwing the car into gear, slinging his arm over the back of Jared’s seat and pulling out of the parking lot. “Yeah.”  
  
They don’t talk much on the short ride off campus to Jensen’s apartment, which Jensen finds odd upon reflection. Christ knows _he’s_ not always a master wordsmith, but it’s a rare occasion when Jared Padalecki shuts the hell up. It makes the situation seem even more important, even more on edge and unpredictable.  
  
By the time they’re standing in Jensen’s living room/den, he’s nearly full-on vibrating with nervous tension. Throws his keys on the table and sucks in a few short breaths before turning to find Jared taking in his digs.   
  
“Nice,” Jared says, then stoops over to pick up a crystal dolphin figurine Mac brought back for him from her senior trip to Cancun, determined that her brother would have _something_ resembling “a woman’s touch”. Jensen’d agreed, then shoved the damn thing somewhere on the bookshelf when she left and forgotten all about it. Jared runs a blunt fingertip over the upturned tail, stroking and watching Jensen with hooded, unreadable eyes. “Cute.” Sexy husk rounding the word, and Jensen’s dick gives an interested, helpless twitch. “Got a thing for flipper, Jensen?”  
  
Jensen flushes red, smiles around an embarrassed drawl. “Hell no, I’ve got a baby sister, man.”  
  
Jared grins back, sets the figure back down and plops down on the couch. “No shit. So do I.” Jensen’s not gonna admit he’s relieved when Jared gives up staring at him to start fooling around with the remote. “Hey, Mavs or Spurs?”  
  
The question is so out of the blue that it takes him a minute to catch up. He blinks, finally notices the basketball game Jared’s settled on. Hears the squeak of sneakers on court, crowd cheering. “Oh, uh. Mavs. Of course.”  
  
The expression on Jared’s face is almost comical, and for the first time Jensen looks at his Brother and sees the simple youth that makes up as much of Jared as the cocksure fratboy. Jared’s eyes are wide, mouth hanging open and nose wrinkled up. He looks absolutely ridiculous, and Jensen slips, slides, and falls right then and there.  
  
_Jesus Christ, help him._  
  
“The fucking _Mavs_ ,” Jared’s moaning, but Jensen barely hears it. He’s sweating, stomach queasy and hands shaking. It’s nothing at all like with Tom, but feels about ten-times stronger. Deadlier. _Real._  
  
Somehow he manages to get out the necessary conversation: “I’m from Dallas” to which Jared rolls his eyes and goodnaturedly ribs him on why San Antonio makes a better man than Dallas. The Alamo’s involved somehow, but Jensen isn’t really paying attention.  
  
One minute he’s standing there while Jared debates the pros and cons of Manu Ginóbili, the next he’s straddling Jared’s thighs and shoving his shirt over his shaggy head. Has his lips up under Jared’s jaw, his dick pressing up against his zipper like a warning beacon.  
  
“Whoa, Jensen.” Jared’s breathless, all groan and shaky gasp as his hands find Jensen’s hips and steady them both. Then Jared’s nudging with his nose-- _c’mon, gimme your fucking mouth_ \--and sucking on Jensen’s bottom lip. It’s good, so good, but not enough and Jensen can’t let it go on for more’n a minute before he pulls away, stares down at Jared’s naked chest. Touches, wants. He can’t settle on anything, feels like a string snapped tight and he’s hungier than he’s ever been in his life.  
  
Something must show in his eyes, that drastic change that’s got him terrified and satisfied all at once, because Jared cusses low under his breath. His voice cracks on Jensen’s name, and Jensen clears his throat. Gives a little nod.  
  
“Yeah.” _Yeah. **Yeah.**_ “My room?”  
  
Jared’s chest rises and falls on a shallow breath, but he’s still got that hint of unholy humor in his eyes that serves as a balm to Jensen’s ragged edges. “And miss the game?”  
  
It’s enough to make Jensen laugh, stand up and start down the hall. “Fuck the goddamn game.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder, but he knows Jared is hot on his heels.   
  
Sure enough, he gets tackled to his navy bedsheets within seconds of crossing the threshold and has a moment to contemplate every bone in his body being broken underneath the weight of one Jared Padalecki before excitement, adrenaline buzz through him and he’s flipping over on top of Jared. Jared’s just grinning back at him, makes no move to get out from under, and Jensen brushes a careful kiss along the slope of his nose.  
  
It’s a question almost, and when he pulls back, he sees the answer in the lowering of lashes over hazel green eyes. The slight curve of Jared’s lips, and then two big hands are on his shoulders pulling him down closer.  
  
“Told ya I’m real good at waiting,” Jared whispers against his mouth, then seals the revelation with a scorching tongue-lick, fingers winding through the short tufts of Jensen’s hair.  
  
_I’m not_ , Jensen thinks dizzily, melting in and going hard. He’s been running the opposite direction for so long, and Jared’s just been waiting for him to catch up. It oughta scare the hell out of him to _know_ that, but instead it’s just a quiet acceptance that washes away the doubt and lets him--finally--give completely over.  
  
He scoots down the bed, pulling Jared’s shorts with him and taking time to taste and touch along the way…a nipple, pale underarm, a freckle just hanging on to the sleek muscle rounding Jared’s thigh. That gets a curious response; Jared all but bucks him off the bed and bites down into his own bicep. Eyes heavy and glazed, mouth slack. Jensen licks around the faint mark, head hanging between stiff shoulders, and then feels the press of Jared’s cock at his throat.  
  
Jared doesn’t say “suck my dick” or give any filthy, seductive words at all. Just reaches down and wraps a hand around himself, humps his hips until Jensen sits up a little. Slides his big, gorgeous cock right up to Jensen’s lips with big eyes and his tongue between his teeth. The invitation’s more than clear, and Jensen’s not gonna miss the party.  
  
It’s not until Jensen licks across the tip of his cock that Jared even makes a noise, and just that quickly the dam is destroyed. Jared’s hands are everywhere he can reach: the pillows, the sheets, Jensen’s hair, shoulders, cheeks, and he’s issuing commands like a dirty drill seargant. _Harder, wetter, lick me, suck me, fuckin’ wanna come in your mouth._  
  
The words wrap themselves around Jensen, flush across his neck and down his spine, and he groans and lets Jared fuck past his lips. Bruise his throat, thicken it up. Every gentle suck, swift pump of fingers, gets him closer to that rich sin tickling his tongue every time Jared’s hips move. Every time Jared’s breath grows heavy amidst the filth dripping from his lips, Jensen thinks _this is it_ and prepares himself. But Jared’s holding on for something, and Jensen finally opens his eyes and finds himself the subject of half-lidded intensity.  
  
On cue, Jared’s throat works, teeth grinding and toes curling on a soundless groan. Jensen tastes accomplishment. Lets hot, bitter come slide down his throat and warm his belly. Nearly smiles when Jared goes limp, then bows back up to throw an arm around Jensen’s neck. Drag him up, soften their mouths together and lick Jensen’s tongue clean.  
  
They go at each other for a few minutes, Jared winding up with Jensen’s pillow between his teeth and his ass in the air. “Your turn, yeah?” It comes out on a raspy groan that shoots straight through Jensen’s stomach to his cock, and his head goes a little fuzzy at the idea of fucking Jared’s tight ass, shoving himself up inside and never coming back out.  
  
“You sure?” he says, barely recognizing himself in the low husky drawl. But he’s already scrambling for the nightstand, fingers closing around crinkly foil.   
  
“Can’t very well do you, with that sore ass,” Jared purrs, and the cheeks in question clench tight. Sting a bit, and Jensen swallows, eyes the subtle tremor working down Jared’s body. He smooths a hand down knobby spine, brings his mouth up to Jared’s ear.   
  
“You ever done this before?”  
  
Jared twists his neck, eyes all pupil. “Just fuck me.”  
  
As far as answers go, it’s a better one than most. But it’s hard to miss the way Jared’s strung tight and… _waiting._ Jensen wants him good and relaxed, little more than a moaning, well-fucked puddle on the floor when this is all said and done. He slides out of his jeans, moving with slow, deliberate motions Jared can feel and hear.   
  
“What the hell’re you doin’?” Jared asks when Jensen straddles the back of his thighs, spreads his hands across Jared’s back.  
  
“Fucking you,” Jensen says easily, and squeezes from shoulder to lumbar, rolls his knuckles. He works with practiced ease, loosening the muscles coiled tight beneath his fingers. It’s like a regular day in class, only he’s not ever naked when rubbing down hyperextended hamstrings and strained quadriceps. Doesn’t really think about spreading the person’s ass apart and licking from the outside in.  
  
“That, _ah_ , doesn’t feel like fuckin’ to me.” Jared sounds sleepy and disoriented, the words all start to jumble together the longer Jensen lingers in one spot. “I… _oh god, Jen_ …I appreciate the thought, but. Um.”  
  
Jensen just smiles when Jared trails off on a low groan, Jensen’s fingers manipulating his upper thighs. “Minoring in physical therapy.”  
  
“You love it.” It’s not a question, and Jensen’s a little surprised that Jared can tell that much from a few words and a quick massage. When Jensen doesn’t answer, Jared continues quietly, “Always take a chance on what y’really want, Jen.”   
  
He smooths his hand down Jared’s spine, hovers above the curve of his ass. He can’t deal with what Jared’s words are raising up in him, not now. “Got into it after a bad back injury first year in baseball.”  
  
“God bless school,” is Jared’s choked off response, Jensen’s hands on his ass. “Jus’ please tell me you’re majoring in fucking me through this mattress.”  
  
Jensen laughs, but the sound’s a bit hollow. He thinks of the journalism degree just waiting on him. The article sitting on his desk in the other room, saved to his hard drive and ready for delivery at his earliest convenience. It’s damn good--his best work, he knows it, isn’t playing at being modest--and it’ll probably get picked up by every paper in the local area once everything comes to light. It’ll be his entrance to everything he wants, throw his name into the newsroom mix, and.  
  
The Deltas, and all of them alike, will finally go down. Tom’ll be out, and it isn’t until then that Jensen realizes it isn’t even Tom he’s trying to save anymore. Hasn’t been, not for a long time.  
  
“Jensen?” Jared murmurs, a molasses drawl that sticks to Jensen’s insides and pulls like taffy. “S’real nice, but you gotta…’fore I fall asleep, man.”  
  
Jensen stops with abrupt focus, ignoring the low laugh Jared sends up when he reaches past and grabs the bottle standing tall on the tabletop. His mind’s a whirl of confusion, affection, and desire, but he pushes past everything but the latter. Slips a hand down between Jared’s thighs, listens to the sharp gasp of breath. A broken “Jensen” spills from Jared’s throat, and Jensen stretches tight, unused ass open for himself.  
  
Jared quickly gets back into it, hissing his encouragement and not trying to hide when Jensen does something he doesn’t like. He’s a bossy bottom, mostly because they both know he’s not one. Which makes this even more important, fucks with Jensen’s head until he grits his teeth and slides his cock up against Jared’s slickened, open hole.   
  
“Yeah, do it, gon’feel so good, baby,” Jared’s saying, pushing back as Jensen presses forward. “Fuck my ass, oh god, s’big…shit. _Fuck._ ”  
  
Jensen can’t speak, can barely _process_ anything but the sight of Jared taking his dick, a ruddy pink wrapped tight around him. He opens his mouth, but what comes out is little more than a run-on of consonants that have no real meaning outside of _goddamntightlovehim._ Three complete different thoughts, and none he can put voice to.  
  
He starts off slow, too scared to pound the way he wants when Jared’s wiggling so damn much underneath him. Then quickly realizes Jared’s not writhing in anything close to pain, and clenches his jaw tight. Gives them both a thrust worth mentioning, tests the waters. Loses a bit more of his mind when tight heat wrings him to pieces and he presses up close to Jared’s back.  
  
It’s not gonna be anything but a fast, sloppy fuck. That much’s been clear since the minute Jared opened his mouth and begged for it, and Jensen’s just trying to _maintain_. Hold on and ride it out until Jared gets off, because that’s just _polite_ , right? But goddamn, Jared’s so warm and welcoming and sweet-hot and wet. He’s so pretty spread out on Jensen’s sheets, letting Jensen fuck his gorgeous ass and keening slurred filth that weighs heavy in the air like thick, Texas heat.  
  
Jared twists his neck and meets Jensen’s gaze, licks his lips, _that all you got, cowboy?_ and Jensen’s just. He’s gonna shoot, no two ways about it. Grabs hold of Jared by his shaggy hair, grits his teeth and drives in hard. Grinds his hips against Jared’s ass, relishes the throaty outcry as his balls squeeze tight.  
  
And thank god, Jared comes on a quick burst and a long curse just seconds before Jensen goes still. Slumps against Jared’s sweat-soaked back and whispers, “Oh, fucking hell.”  
  
He pulls out, rubs sticky-wet against Jared’s ass and hears Jared wheezing through a laugh.   
  
“Gonna buy me dinner, baby?”  
  
Soft, teasing, and just what Jensen needs to hear. Jared squirms, rolls onto his back and watches Jensen dispose of the condom with his hands behind his head and lips curled up. When Jensen finally meets his gaze, there’s nothing but bone-deep satisfaction darkening hazel eyes and maybe a wince or two as Jared settles more comfortably.  
  
“Now we’ve both got sore asses,” Jensen says dumbly, sliding onto his side, propped up on an elbow. He wants to taste the flush on Jared’s cheeks, so he does. Gets a hum of pleasure for his efforts, and then Jared wraps a hand around his hip.  
  
“My excuse is better than yours,” Jared says, sitting up and finding Jensen’s fingers. Tangling together. “Wuss.”  
  
“Hey.” Jensen pulls back, pulls a mock-frown. “We’re talking about having someone stick needles in your ass for three hours, dude. _You_ just got a dick in your crack for fifteen minutes. _Wuss._ ”  
  
Jared pokes his lip out, murmurs “Aw” and reaches around to play with the edges of the bandage taped to Jensen’s buttock. A smile overcomes the pout and he nuzzles Jensen’s neck. “It was so hot though, Jen. So fucking hot.”  
  
Jensen makes a disbelieving sound, shoves him away, but he’s biting back a grin of his own.   
  
“M’tired,” Jared says a second later, a yawn proving his words truth, and he turns sleepy eyes on Jensen. “Guess I better be gettin’ on back before Chad thinks he can call dibs on my futon.”  
  
He doesn’t make a move to leave, and Jensen thinks of the article sitting pretty in his office. Stares down at his and Jared’s tangled fingers and strives for a calm he doesn’t quite feel. “Or you could just crash here, kick Chad out in the morning.”  
  
Jared blinks, stays quiet for so long that Jensen’s ready to bite his tongue off and take it all back. That scares him more than a little, that he misread it all somehow, and then Jared’s mouth is on his. A quick kiss, and Jared breaks away, scrambling for the dry side of the bed. “I call lefty, bitch.”  
  
Jensen manages a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, letting Jared shift and maneuver on the bed until he’s wrapped up in Jensen’s blankets, Jensen’s pillows. “Hey, I gotta make a quick phone call,” he says softly, standing up and backing away to the door. “I’ll just be a minute, all right?”  
  
Jared waves a hand, already snuffling into a pillow. Jensen stares at him for a second longer--warm and huge and fucking gorgeous. All Jensen’s.  
  
But he’s gotta finish it first.  
  
There’s a single lamp burning in his office, shining down on his PC like a sniper mark, and Jensen grazes a finger along the keyboard. Sits down and rubs a hand down his face once, twice. Fingers hovering over the mouse, email a click away.  
  
_There’s no second chances with you. Fuck up once, and time’s run out.  
  
One day you’ll meet your match  
  
Always take a chance on what y’really want, Jen.  
  
Get. Jared. Out._  
  
He closes his eyes and presses _send._  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Blanton Hall.  
Day 2._  
  
  
Jensen’s second day of Pledge Week starts off about as well as his first. On the plus side, at least he managed to get some sleep this time before being woken up by his new Pledgemaster. Jared Padalecki, “the Beast”, and for all intents and purposes, Jensen was his new plaything for the next ten days or until Jensen hung himself from the nearest belltower. Whichever came first.  
  
But, he did get his sleep. So he can’t bitch _too_ much when he wakes up to find bright brown-green eyes and dimples flashing down at him.  
  
“Wha--” he gets out before a big hand claps around his mouth, pulling him up tight against a hard chest in pink cotton.  
  
“Mornin’, Beauty.” Jared’s voice is a quiet whisper that brushes Jensen’s ear like a dry summer breeze. Jared’s nose presses up to his neck, and Jensen goes still. “Come with me.”  
  
Like he’s got much of a goddamn choice? Jared lets him go and Jensen sits up, grimaces at the kink in his back from the shitty dorm mattress he’d been forced to bunk on for the opening days of Pledge Week.  
  
_The better to wake you up at the crack-ass of dawn_.  
  
He shuffles along after Jared without much protest, near on mute until that first soul-saving sip of caffeine reinvigorates his body and reminds him he’s a human being. His eyes are glued to the flex of Jared’s ass in tight jeans because, well, human thing aside, he’s still a guy. With needs.  
  
He’s so focused on that sweet curve of flesh, in fact, that it takes him a minute to realize that they’ve passed on by the kitchen and are venturing into unchartered territory, aka The Outside World. Without _coffee._  
  
“Um, hey, excuse me,” he tries around the fog of sleep in his voice. Jared comes to a stop, looks back at him with unreadable features. “I’m gonna need, uh.”  
  
Jared’s eyes glimmer with some unholy light Jensen’s can’t put a name to, then he’s _right there_ and Jensen sucks in a breath as he finds himself staring at Jared’s pursed pink lips, wet from the swipe of Jared’s tongue.   
  
“Already? Tempting,” Jared says, low and thrumming, and Jensen swallows. Says nothing when Jared’s thumb comes up, plays with Jensen’s bottom lip. Then Jared’s voice raises, no longer soft, sweet. “But we’ve got work to do, pledge. Mind outta the gutter.”  
  
Jensen lists forward when Jared suddenly jerks away, blinking and trying to figure out what the hell’d just happened. _Now wait just one damn…_ “I didn’t--”  
  
“J-Man!” comes the sound of Obnoxious, and Jensen rubs his forehead as Chad appears, slapping Jared’s upraised hand, sleepy-eyed pledge following along behind him. “Ready to put these sorry souls to the grindstone?”  
  
“Make ‘em learn the Delta Sigma way.” Jared grins, slanting a glance at Jensen. There’s a quick flash of…something, that stretches in the air and wants to take form. Then Jared blinks, and the same cocksure fratboy jackass is in his place. “Hope you can carry a tune, Beauty. Chad here’s more likely to scare them all into submission.”  
  
“Fuck you,” comes Chad’s witty reply, but Jensen’s stuck on Jared’s words. A really bad feeling’s starting to settle down low in his belly, made worse when President Kane shows up with a guitar strapped to his back. Rubs his hands together with a feline grin on his face.  
  
“Ladies,” he says to the pledges at large, and watching Jensen in particular. “Time to sing for your supper.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [8/9]  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating/Warnings:** NC-17 overall | graphic m/m sex, real person fiction, spanking, rimming, delayed orgasm, and various other kinks.  
**Word Count:** 2,671 [this part]  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the time-frame at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
  
 

  
  
**'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear: Part 8.  
By keepaofthecheez.**

  
  
Previously:   
  
_The article is sitting on his desk in the other room, saved to his hard drive and ready for delivery at his earliest convenience. It’s damn good--his best work, he knows it, isn’t playing at being modest--and it’ll probably get picked up by every paper in the local area once everything comes to light. It’ll be his entrance to everything he wants, throw his name into the newsroom mix, and.  
  
The Deltas, and all of them alike, will finally go down. Tom’ll be out, and it isn’t until then that Jensen realizes it isn’t even Tom he’s trying to save anymore. Hasn’t been, not for a long time.  
_  
  
  
And now:  
  
  
_Jensen’s Apartment.  
Pledge Week.  
Day 10._  
  
  
Jensen wakes up to the hot press of tongue on his balls. The groan that spills past his lips is more of sleep, confusion, and he drops a hand. Finds shaggy curls and sinks down into relief, pleasure. “Goddamn.”  
  
“Mornin’, pretty,” Jared says, light and easy. Jensen blinks fog from his eyes and stares down at Jared’s smug grin. He props his chin on Jensen’s lower belly, rubs absent circles along his thigh. “Look, I gotta get outta here…class and some other stuff. Jus’ didn’t want you waking up and thinkin’, well.”  
  
Jensen knows. Warmth spirals through, and has his lips curving in answer. “Yeah.” Jared watches him a moment longer, eyes slowly growing more lidded and Jensen finally huffs out a laugh, stretches his arms behind his head. Satisfaction is a slur in his voice. “Take a fucking picture, dude.”  
  
At that, Jared blinks. Sits up, expression back to normal and mischief burning hot. “Oh, I did. Gonna wallpaper my room with your sweet ass, Ackles.” He mimes a camera click with two fingers, then slides off the bed with a wink while Jensen’s still digesting his words. Trying to figure out if there’s any way Jared could’ve actually done something untoward while Jensen was asleep. _Well, besides sucking his balls._ He flushes a little, not completely turned-off by the idea of it…just him, Jared, a blinking red light and… _action!_  
  
Jared kisses him, wet and slow, muttering something under his breath about “fuck, ll’just drop out instead”, and Jensen’s mouth, then groans and backs away from the bed. “Later.” He points at Jensen and shakes his head on a laugh. “I’ll see _you_ later.”  
  
Jensen lifts his hand in a half-wave, still a little dazed himself. Christ, he’s turned into…he doesn’t even recognize what anymore. Ten days. That’s all it took for Jared Padalecki to turn him completely upside down and destroy any semblance of control Jensen ever thought he possessed.  
  
His cell phone rings, flashing Mike’s name like a branding iron, and Jensen hears the front door slam shut behind Jared. All at once, lazy contentment falls to a niggling guilt threatening to curdle Jensen’s stomach as he thinks about the night before. He’s suddenly not half as sure that Jared will understand he’s done the right thing. Hasn’t he?  
  
“Got your email,” Mike says without preamble the minute Jensen picks up. Jensen plucks at the bedsheets and thinks of Jared’s grin, fucking wide open and trustworthy.  
  
Christ.   
  
“Oh. Yeah, about that…” he swallows, Jared’s taste still lingering on his tongue, in the air. He shifts, hears his bandage scrape against the sheets. A triumphant victory mark, war wound. Now it’s just a not-so-subtle reminder of what will soon become his betrayal. He speaks before he can think better of it, a steady thrum of doubt and confusion. “I’m thinking we can go slow on it, you know? Make sure we cross-ref some more and maybe get Chris’s side in there before--”  
  
“Too late,” Mike cuts him off, talking over Jensen in quick, jittery excitement. “We did a rush on the print, but there’s…a problem.”  
  
Jensen’s not too out of it to miss the weird sway of Michael’s voice. “What’s up?”  
  
Mike pauses, then clears his throat. “Something stupid, but I need to see you, okay? Meet me in the journalism office in thirty.”  
  
Jensen’s eyes flicker to the clock.   
  
A half hour later, he’s padding through the Journalism building with a thousand excuses on his tongue, a complete turn-around in mind. None of it matters anymore--not the Deltas, not Tom, not his stupid need for vengeance against something that was never tangible to begin with.  
  
“A student reporter wrote that piece, you have to submit it!”   
  
He hears Michael’s furious tone, turns toward it.   
  
“This isn’t a report on the football team taking nationals, Rosenbaum,” another, deeper voice replies with an edge to it, and Jensen recognizes the university provost with a niggle of concern. “This gets out, we’ve got a hell of a problem on our hands. I want the story, straight.”  
  
“You’ve got it all, right there--”  
  
Jensen steps inside, and Mike trails off. There are others in the room, someone speaks, but Jensen can’t hear through the roar in his head when he catches sight of the figure slumped into a seat in the corner. A million apologies immediately rear up on his tongue, anything to get rid of the look that flashes across Jared’s face when Jensen closes the door behind himself.  
  
“Mr…Ackles?” The provost glances down at a copy of what Jensen now sees is the _Texan_ , and Jensen’s heart sinks through his stomach. The provost’s expression is pleasant enough, but there’s a warning behind gray eyes that’s impossible to misinterpret. “This is quite a story, son.”  
  
Everyone’s staring at him. Everyone but Jared, who’s watching a June bug crawl across the Berber carpet. His face is carefully blank now, but there’s a tic in that hard jaw that digs down deep in Jensen’s insides. Twists. Once the bug gets close enough, Jared’s foot comes down with a meaningful _squish_. Jensen winces.  
  
“I…” His gaze travels from Jared, to Mike, to Christian standing behind Jared with chin held high and war on his features. Their eyes lock and Christian drops a hand to Jared’s shoulder, squeezing reassuredly. Jensen recognizes the gesture for what it is, the meaning is simple: gotta get through me first. His first instinct is denial, resentment, and an urge to remove Christian with bodily force. His fingers curl inward, tongue against his teeth, desperation rising to choke him when Jared _still won’t look at him._  
  
“Jensen, is this true?” Kathleen, the director of journalism and Jensen’s faculty advisor, asks. They’ve gotten to know one another fairly well during his years at UT, and he’s disgusted with himself when he glimpses the mixture of wariness and worry across her pretty features. Reporter at heart, teacher in hand. “You’re making quite an accusation.”  
  
“It’s true,” Michael speaks up before Jensen can open his mouth, and Jensen glances back at Jared again. Helpless. “The Greeks have been getting away with murder on campus, Kate. Jensen and Miss Mack’s research is sound. It’s all laid out there in black and white, the Deltas are abusing the system, their _pledges_ \--”  
  
Chris snorts, voice quiet and calm. “Bullshit.”  
  
It’s almost comical, the way Mike’s neck twists, the look of shock on his face as he stares at Christian. Chris raises a brow in retort-- _what’re you gonna do about it?_ \--and Jensen’s lips twitch with muted hysteria.  
  
“I’ve been presiding over Alpha chapter for a year and a half, sir,” Chris says, but all Jensen can understand is that his hand is still on Jared. He sees the tremor racing down between Jared’s shoulders, and again he wants to put himself between the two men. Do something to make it all _stop._ “I came in myself to prove what Jensen’s claiming, but. Those guys…my boys are good guys, sir. I’d vouch for every one, and I’ve approved every fraternity rite, overseen several in action. _Nothing’s_ happening that would put any of our pledges at risk--”  
  
“Oh, and when your lackey here’s trying to assault my reporter, harassing him in front of _your boys_ ,” Mike spits out, hand waving in Jared’s direction, and Jensen blinks.   
  
“I didn’t--” His voice cracks, and he feels familiar eyes stroking him for the first time since he’d stepped inside the office. He can’t look at Jared, can’t fucking _think._ He isn’t sure what the answer is anymore. “Jared never.” He stops again, breath shallow and too loud in the small room.  
  
The provost looks down, shuffles a few pages, lifts an uncomfortable brow. “Says here Mr. Padalecki is responsible for worrisome attempts of…‘systematical emotional and borderline-physical abuse’. You’ve given several detailed descriptions of such, including a rather disturbing scene in the East Mall--”  
  
“No,” Jensen says, snaps, watching Jared’s reaction to the words with more than a little anxiety. “No, Jared wasn’t. That wasn’t _Jared_ , it was--”  
  
“Mr. Padalecki was your Pledgemaster, was he not, Mr. Ackles?”  
  
Jensen doesn’t speak, can’t remember what he fucking _wrote_ , but it was nothing like this. “It wasn’t Jared,” he repeats weakly, and sees Michael frowning at him from the corner of his eye. The provost opens his mouth again, but another voice rings out.  
  
“He’s telling the truth.” Jared’s words are a hollow hole in Jensen’s chest, and he snaps his gaze over to find brown-green eyes trained straight ahead. Avoiding him. “It’s all true, sir.”  
  
“Jared,” Chris starts sharply, but Jared shakes his head. Stands up and thrusts his chin out with a dull look in his eyes.  
  
The provost looks over at Jared in confusion. “Mr. Padalecki?”  
  
I…” Jared swallows, appearing small for the first time since Jensen ever laid eyes on him. His voice shakes, and something inside of Jensen goes thick and tremulous. “I was given a, a power over others and I took advantage of it. I let things happen that shouldn’t have, I. I’m responsible.” He pauses. Jensen’s head spins. The next words come out almost too quiet, but hoarse with emotion. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“No.” It comes out before Jensen realizes he’s spoken, but Jared doesn’t look over. His expression doesn’t change at all, and Jensen presses on anyway, suddenly not giving a _fuck_ that anyone else is in the room. Everything’s on the line, and he’s so close to falling off the wire. “ _No_ , that’s not what I wrote. It’s not the truth!”  
  
The provost ignores Jensen in favor of watching Jared, no one else speaks a word. Even Mike looks utterly bewildered by the whirlwind of events, and Jensen’s breath hitches on a laugh that’s not amused at all.   
  
“Mr. Padalecki, you realize what your admission could cost you?” the provost finally asks, and Jensen’s fists tighten at the implication. Jared looks a little scared, but stands tall. Nods.  
  
“Well.” The provost clears his throat, staring at the newspaper issue for a moment that stretches on much too long. Jensen’s ready to scream by the time he finally looks back up. “If Mr. Ackles won’t corroborate his claims, then I’m afraid we’re all at an impasse. This issue _will_ end now, Mr. Rosenbaum. I want Mr. Ackles’ story pulled from this week’s edition immediately. And Mr. Padalecki, well, it might prove best if you were to…”  
  
The words hang in the air, unsaid, and Jared’s lips tighten at the corners. “Yes, sir,” he says, and Jensen wonders _what?_ From the furious look on Christian’s face, whatever’s going to happen isn’t going to win Jensen any popularity points.  
  
“I think we’re done here,” the provost says with an edge of fatigue. “In light of this case and despite the outcome, I do believe it’s time the university took a more active role in its Fraternity life. I’ll be in touch, Mr. Kane. Things will be changing.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Christian says, all politeness, but Jensen feels the bite underneath. The provost nods, dismissing them all, and Mike curses, walks out with a single frustrated look Jensen’s way.  
  
“Got what you wanted,” Chris mutters, pushing past with a hard brush of shoulder. “Now lay the fuck off. Go be Rosenbaum’s bitch-boy for another cause, all right?”  
  
Jared barely catches his eye before he follows, and Jensen lists forward. Isn’t sure what he wants to say, but knows he has to do something. Fast. But he gets sidelined by his journalism teacher, who sends him a slightly disappointed look that tears into Jensen’s already guilty conscience.  
  
“Jensen, what _happened?_ ” she asks, an urgent murmur, and Jensen locks his jaw. Looks over her shoulder to see Jared disappear through the door.  
  
“I…” His throat works. “I can’t right now, I’m sorry, I have to...” He makes a sound in the back of his throat, hurries out into the hallway after Jared, ignoring his teacher’s voice as she calls his name. “Jared!” he blurts out, hand around his neck as Jared goes still, turns around.   
  
It takes a second, but then there’s a soft, “Beauty.” It’s nothing like the many times he’s said it with playful intention, or even like the beginning when it was a provocation more than anything else. This time, there’s a razor’s edge to the name, and yet something akin to admiration lurks behind the betrayal in Jared’s eyes. “Tamed the beast after all, yeah?”  
  
_Shut up,_ Jensen wants to say. Instead, he just repeats Jared’s name, a plea scoring his voice. “I’m sorry, I just thought…I just wanted to...” He cuts himself off, bites his tongue. Tries again, low, fervent tone. “It was never about _you_.”  
  
Jared’s wince is theatrical, voice a bitter pill for Jensen to swallow. “Well, I feel better.”  
  
“Jared, c’mon. Just let me explain, okay?” Jensen reaches out, afraid to touch but more afraid that Jared will slip away.   
  
Jared smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He drops his big hand on Jensen’s arm, and his words feel like a goodbye. “Congratulations, Jensen. You’ve finally earned the name of Delta.”  
  
Jensen thinks about that long after the sound of Jared’s footsteps fade away, and finally squeezes his eyes shut tight.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_Austin, Texas.  
True Blue Tattoo Parlor.  
Day 9._  
  
  
His ass is numb. There’s no two ways about it, and Jensen gives a little grunt when the guy currently drilling holes in his left buttcheek-- _just call me Dave_ \--goes a little too deep.  
  
Jared rests his hand lightly on Jensen’s head, voice a study in sympathy and amusement. “Delta for life, right?”  
  
“What I wanna know,” Jensen manages, glancing up to find pretty pink lips curved toward him, “is where the hell you’re--fuck--hiding _yours._ ”  
  
Jared laughs, raps his chest a few times. “Right here, Beauty. Where it counts.”  
  
Jensen should’ve known. “So, all the pledges _don’t_ have to get a crest tattoo,” he says flatly, laying his head on his forearm and flinching when Dave reaches an area not yet numbed by constant pinprick.  
  
“Well, no.” Jared crouches down, looks Jensen in the eye. “But watching you get one’s pretty fucking hot. I could apologize, but I’d be lying.”  
  
Jensen shudders when that voice dips low, washing warm against his ear. “Whatever,” he manages on a gruff breath, trying not to let Jared see the effect he has and failing miserably. “You’re such a fucking jerk.”  
  
“Hey, I’m right there with you, baby,” Jared purrs, not in the least put out by Jensen’s less than heated insult. “At least it’s not a dozen girls, ya know?”  
  
Jensen can’t help but snort a little. “Taking your revenge on the innocent?”  
  
Jared’s teeth flash at that, and something in Jensen perks up with sudden interest. “Interesting choice of words,” Jared drawls, tapping his chin and then crouching lower until he’s at Jensen’s eye-level. “Considering the stuff that came out of your _innocent_ mouth when I was riding your ass yesterday.”  
  
“Jesus.” Jensen chokes, glancing back at Dave and blushing bright red. The tattoo artist isn’t paying them the slightest attention, and Jensen bites his lip. “Jesus, Jared,” he says again, softer.   
  
Jared chews his lip, expression contrite but gaze glittering with unrepentance. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just. I mentioned how fucking _hot_ you look right now, didn’t I?”  
  
Jensen isn’t quite sure how to answer that…not when Jared’s words have evoked images his mind’s having trouble getting rid of. “I think we should talk,” he finally hears himself saying, and can’t really believe it. “What happened yesterday was--”  
  
“Fucking fantastic,” Jared interrupts calmly. “And it’ll happen again.”  
  
Goddamn if the cocky bastard’s not damn well right.   
  
“I told you what I want,” Jared continues, just a whisper against Jensen’s ear. “And I think you showed me what you want. I can wait for the rest, okay?”  
  
_No, it’s not okay. Because none of this is real and I don’t want what you want._  
  
But Jensen only nods, and wonders when he started to believe Jared’s words over his own.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** 'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear [9/9]  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating/Warnings:** NC-17 overall | graphic m/m sex, real person fiction, spanking, rimming, delayed orgasm, and various other kinks.  
**Word Count:** 3,913 [this part]  
**Summary:** Jensen dives into the seedy underbelly of Pledge Week at UT for a news article and gets more than he bargained for. Completely cliché and totally AU, but y’know, it could’ve happened. If the universe was, like, alternate.  
**Notes:** This story’s going to be told in a non-linear fashion, therefore things will not unfold chronologically. So basically, pay attention to the timeframe at the beginning of each section, and you’ll be able to follow along just fine. You don’t need to know everything that’s going on just yet.  
Also, this is all fiction. I've never been in a fraternity, obviously, so I apologize for any inconsistencies herein. *hugs*  
  
  
  
  
 

  
  
**'til you’re old enough to know things ain't as they appear: Part 9.  
By keepaofthecheez.**

  
  
Previously:   
  
_“I’m sorry, I just thought…I just wanted to...” Jensen cuts himself off, bites his tongue. Tries again, low, fervent tone. “It was never about you.”  
  
Jared’s wince is theatrical, voice a bitter pill for Jensen to swallow. “Well, I feel better.”  
  
“Jared, c’mon. Just let me explain, okay?” Jensen reaches out, afraid to touch but more afraid that Jared will slip away.   
  
Jared smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He drops his big hand on Jensen’s arm, and his words feel like a goodbye. “Congratulations, Jensen. You’ve finally earned the name of Delta.”_  
  
  
And now:  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
Office: The Daily Texan  
One Week After It All Goes Down._  
  
  
Of course, the irony of the situation is that Jared’s right: Jensen actually does become a Delta Sigma Pi when all is said and done. He could’ve walked away at any time after the news article fiasco, and a part of him wanted to. But days pass and instead of shunning what he’d once fought so hard against, he finds himself being initiated into Greek Life, renegotiating his apartment lease, and sleeping in Jared’s now empty bed every night.  
  
Maybe it’s just knowing that eventually Jared would have to come back, pick up his stuff and officially move out of Delta House. And when he did, Jensen wanted to be there. Call it a need for closure, pure desperation, whatever…but things weren’t gonna end the way they had in the Journalism building. There’s more to it all, hell, there’s more to _them_ and Jensen finally feels like he’s in a place to do something about it.  
  
Of course, he’s gotta find Jared first, which is proving pretty damn difficult for a guy who could give a friggin’ Redwood a run for its money. He’s sure as hell not answering Jensen’s calls anyway, and it’s more than a bit irritating to realize he has no clue what Jared’s schedule even _is_ outside of the Deltas. Just another reminder of how quick they’d gotten into this mess, but it only further cements Jensen’s stubborn streak.  
  
He thinks back on how he’d actually broken down and gone to _Chad_ that morning, how tight-lipped and dismissive Jared’s best friend had been even though he and Jensen had formed a shaky truce since Jensen’s official initiation into the Deltas, and his jaw goes tight as he leans against his work station.   
  
He’s still got a long way to go.  
  
The sight of his empty desk only gives him a small pang, regret a fleeting flavor on his tongue, and then he hefts the box in his hands. Turns and nearly runs right into Mike. “Oh. Hey.”  
  
Mike doesn’t even try to hide how much Jensen’s decision bothers him, lips a flat line of disapproval. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”  
  
Yeah, Jensen can barely believe it himself.  
  
When he doesn’t answer right away, Mike comes closer, voice going harder. “So what, you’re just gonna quit…give up? Go be what you fucking fought against, Jensen?”  
  
“I don’t think of it as giving up,” Jensen says easily, and wonders when pissing Michael off became something of a sport. Because it _is_ kind of hilarious, that twitch his friend gets behind his eye whenever he’s close to losing it. Jensen’s used to steering clear, knowing all too well about Mike’s short temper, but now it’s so hardly even a concern.  
  
But Michael doesn’t get angry. All at once, he just sort of deflates…eyeing Jensen with more softness than Jensen’s ever really seen from go-get-em Rosenbaum. “All you’ve ever wanted to be is a journalist, Jensen. This was your chance. What’s left now?”  
  
“Everything.” Jensen grins at the confusion in Michael’s eyes, sees a part of himself he’s finally exorcized, and can’t help but forgive his friend then and there. “Hell, someone once told me I’ve got the magic touch…maybe I’ll concentrate on that PT degree after all.”  
  
“So you’re gonna give up your dream, just like that.” Michael snaps his fingers, sarcasm back and thick as the winter fog outside.  
  
Jensen’s smile fades, but the quiet confidence remains. “Dreams change.”  
  
“ _People_ change,” Michael counters, but there’s not any heat behind the words. Just careful interest, and Jensen feels a stupid flush working its way up his cheeks, can’t quite look at him until Mike makes a rough sound and turns away to fiddle with something on Allie’s desk.  
  
“Yeah, they do.” Jensen thinks of smiling hazel eyes, big hands and soft lips. _Thank god they do._ “Tell me something, Mike.” He clears his throat, waiting for his former boss to turn back around. Jensen shifts his weight, chewing his lip. “If you knew Christian was just gonna turn around and sell you out, why the hell’d you put him in there to begin with?”  
  
It was one of the many things he’d wondered since the news article came to light, and though Chris had come clean and cleared up a few niggling details on Jensen’s mind, he’d left plenty more blurry and unsaid. Jensen isn’t all that surprised, figures it’ll take a bit longer to get the fraternity president to trust him after everything that’s gone down, but it’s a start.  
  
There’s a few beats of silence, and then Mike’s jaw works. “I didn’t. Chris had something of his own to prove…my mistake was getting interested in it to begin with. Never was able to let go of a story, Jensen. You know that.”  
  
It’s pretty much what he’d expected, and not nearly enough of an answer. “And I was hungry to jump right in. Yeah, I get it. Just a story.”  
  
Something of an apology lurks behind Mike’s eyes, but Jensen knows better than to push, to expect anything from it. His friend’s more of a reporter than Jensen ever was, ruthless when he needs to be, and Jensen wonders how he ever thought he could be the same.  
  
He takes a deep breath, fingers tightening around the box, and offers a smile. “Good luck, Michael.”  
  
“Jensen--” Michael cuts himself off, scratches at his head, then thrusts out a hand. “Good luck to you, too.” It’s sincere, and Jensen clasps his palm. Says goodbye, to all of it.  
  
It’s wet and soggy when he steps outside, courtesy of a surprise shower in a state that sure needs it, and he gives half a thought of thanks that he’d parked close to the side of the building. Tosses his stuff in the backseat, and peels out of the parking lot.  
  
He catches glimpses of students rushing between classes, books held over their heads and laughter on their faces. Finds himself unconsciously searching out shaggy hair and long legs, then turns up the radio in a bout of frustration. Bob Seger sings in the background, and Jensen hears Tom’s voice in his head.  
  
_Everything’s not black and white, Jensen. It’s fuck all in the end. Those guys are there for each other and this school and you’re looking at one week out of a year._  
  
Turns out, Tom was smarter than Jensen’d ever given him credit for.  
  
By the time he gets to Delta House, there’s a gathering of black clouds overhead and Jensen runs inside before getting caught in the downpour. He gets a few waves and calls as he passes by the common room, throws them all an absent salute and makes for the staircase. Right now, a dark room and a nap is sounding pretty damn good.  
  
His door’s cracked open, lights on, and he slows down. Stares at it while something hot and hopeful flashes through his veins. It’s probably just Chad, gone in to find something of Jared’s, but Jensen’s somehow turned into a goddamn optimist along the way and just can’t let the idea go. He shoves the door open.  
  
And Jared’s there, waiting, sitting on the bed with his hands clasped between his legs and his knee bouncing. Jensen shuts the door after him, nearly choking on his relief, and Jared looks up.   
  
“Jared, I…” Now that it’s happening, now that Jared’s _here_ , Jensen doesn’t know what the hell to say. “I know how this must look,” he settles for, feeling so lame, and Jared’s lips curve just a little.  
  
“Do you?” is all he says, easy and so casual that Jensen’s head hurts. “Huh.” He comes to his feet, walks over to stare out the window. “Coming down pretty hard out there.”  
  
“Yeah, it is.” The conversation’s a frustrating struggle for Jensen not to throw himself down at Jared’s feet and beg. “Look, Jay--”  
  
“Oh, sorry, I probably should’ve called…” Jared sounds uncomfortable, like _he’s_ the one who shouldn’t be there, and Jensen gapes at him. “I won’t be long, just came to, you know. Get my shit and get out.”  
  
A bit of bitterness coats those last few words, but none of it’s aimed at the right source: Jensen. Like it should be. He opens his mouth to say just that, but Jared barrels on.  
  
“I came by the _Texan_ a few days back…talked to your friend Allison? She’s, uh, something else.” Jared smiles, and goddamn, Jensen loves him so much it physically _hurts._ “Just wanted to…” Jared trails off, shrugs his shoulders and won’t meet Jensen’s eye. Laughs a bit unsteadily. “Anyway, she put me through the wringer.”  
  
“She can be a bit hostile on occasion,” Jensen manages, low and gruff, and _why_ isn’t Jared close enough that he can grab on? “She’s a good friend, though. Always has your back.”  
  
“Yeah, I wouldn’t know.” It’s a brutal hit. Jensen feels the impact, blinks, mouth quivering into a frown even as Jared keeps right on smiling. That nervous tension is back though, and scoring his features. “Look, I’m not real good at the stall tactics, so I’ll just get on to it.” He breathes deep, and Jensen’s pulse is pounding hard enough to rival the outside thunder. “I’m sorry, Jen. For all of it. I never should’ve…everything just…” He trails off, looking pained. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that. I’m _sorry_ , and--”  
  
“Dude, what the hell?” It comes out before Jensen can think better of it, and suddenly he wants to _strangle_ the fucking idiot as much as he wants to lick up and under that hard jaw until he tastes Jared’s frown. He welcomes the burst of raw anger, soaks it up. “I’m a grown man, if I hadn’t wanted it, I’d’ve stopped you.”  
  
“Not if it helped with the article.” Jared’s voice is soft, matter-of-fact. And somehow louder than a shout. “Every time I touched you, every…every time you _let_ me, it was for. _Christ_ it was all for the paper and--”  
  
“Hey, fuck that,” Jensen interrupts quickly, breath heavy and panicked. “ _Fuck that_ , Jay.”  
  
For the first time, Jared looks mutinous, angry. Ragged. He throws his arms around, a sure sign of how upset he really us, and the crack in his voice shudders down Jensen’s spine like broken glass. “What the hell’m I supposed to think, man? Allie, she explained it all to me. I get it, okay? I get you were trying to save him or whatever. Just let me apologize and get out, Jensen. Please. Just let me.”  
  
Jensen’s mind’s spinning around. He understands Jared’s words, but doesn’t all at the same time. It all seems so long ago, his motives and purposes and, all of it. He’s across the room before he can suck in a breath, Jared’s face between his hands and determination on his tongue. “It wasn’t Tom I was trying to save by the end, Jared. Not _Tom_. Do you get that?”  
  
Lightning streaks outside the window, illuminating Jared’s hurt, confused expression. Jensen knows he’s digging in too hard, knuckles white, but he can’t ease up. Not until Jared fucking _says_ something.  
  
The moment of silence drags on way too long, and then Jared clears his throat. Reaches up for Jensen’s wrists and pulls them away, tightening his grip so hard that for a minute Jensen sees flashes of broken fingers and weeks of recovery.  
  
Then, “I wasn’t lookin’ for a fuckin’ Savior, Jensen! I was just lookin’ for _you._ ” Jared lets go abruptly, sucks in a breath, and turns away. He grabs something off the bed, some small remnant of his stay in Delta Sigma, and shoulders past Jensen without another word.  
  
Jensen’s stunned still, hears a few shouted “Yo, Beast! Where you been, man?”s as Jared walks down the hallway, but by the time he makes it out there, the only one standing around is Chad. Jared’s friend watches him for a long moment, chewing on an apple and maybe understanding Jensen a little too well.  
  
“Well, now you know why they call him that,” he says, and Jensen walks back in his room and slams the door.  
  
Jared doesn’t visit the Deltas again, not that Jensen’s really expecting him to. Jensen sees him once a few weeks later, coming out of the gym in basketball shorts and short sleeves. Tousled and sweaty, and they lock eyes for all of a second before a car zooms by. When Jensen looks again, Jared’s walking away, and ain’t that just the punctuation mark on it all.  
  
“Dude,” Steve says several nights later, slapping Jensen across the thigh with a wet rag. “Go out and get laid before you make _me_ depressed. You can’t afford my therapy bills.”  
  
Jensen blinks, coming out of a nice daze involving a spot on the wall that he’s decided is a dead ringer for David Duchovny. “Huh?” Steve’s sigh could blow over a building, and Jensen blushes a bit on realizing he’s been moping all night. “Sorry, man, I just…m’not feeling myself lately, I guess.”  
  
“I told you this was all a bad idea.” But there’s less accusation than concern in his friend’s voice, and Jensen nods absently. “Look, you need to go home? Get yourself sorted out?”  
  
Jensen seriously considers it for a moment, then realizes he’d just wind up spending the time pining over Jared in Jared’s _bed_ and that’s just, no. “I’m good,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing a smile that doesn’t fool Steve for a second. But his friend doesn’t call him on it, just tosses him a menu and nods toward a dark corner in the bar.   
  
“Well, someone’s been checking you out all night. Go for it, will ya? Turn that frown upside down.”  
  
Jensen grimaces a little at the idea of having to turn down some stranger, then glances over. He has to look twice through the smoke and dim light, but his heart’s already clawing up his throat as he walks over. “What the hell are you doin’ here?” he chokes out, fingers curling into fists when Jared just slants him a carelessly blank look. Like he could give a damn that Jensen’s here, that he’s fucking breaking Jensen in two by showing up and not wanting him back.  
  
Jared just leans back in his chair, legs sprawled out and lips curled up at the edges. “I’m pining, lost without you,” he says, deadpanned but with something sparkling in his eyes that Jensen hasn’t seen for way too long.  
  
“You’re…” Jensen grits his teeth together. “I’m sure you’ll get over it.”  
  
“Better luck getting rid of my name on your ass.” And there it is, that mischievous smile Jensen loves and hates. It takes a few seconds for Jared’s words to sink in, and then Jensen frowns in obvious confusion. Jared cocks his head, now pulling on his lower lip with two fingers and Jensen’s gaze drops, he sways forward a little. “You never looked at that tattoo, did ya?”  
  
Jensen snaps straight, cheeks hot and dick much too interested. “The hell are you talkin’ about?”  
  
Jared throws his head back, _laughs_ loud enough to bring the house down, and Jensen sees Steve glance their way. Finally Jared quiets down some, though his expression doesn’t dim. He leans forward, crooking a finger expectantly. “Hey, don’t worry…I got one, too.”  
  
“Yeah? Where?” Jensen jokes despite the fact that he still has no fucking idea what’s going on. Although judging by the way Jared’s acting, maybe he should stop overthinking and just thank god for small favors.  
  
Jared’s voice takes a turn for sly, his fingers wrapping around Jensen’s wrist. “Can’t show you here.”  
  
Jensen suddenly finds himself eye-to-eye with Jared, and licks his lips unconsciously. “Jay. What’re you, what’s this all about?” he gets out, low and thrumming, because hell…he’s gotta know. “Five minutes ago you weren’t even speaking to me, and now.”  
  
“And now I am,” Jared says, like that’s the end of it. Jensen feels a flash of frustration, and then Jared tugs him closer. “M’sorry, I just.” His throat works, a soft laugh escaping through. “I guess Beauty really _did_ tame the Beast, because fuck Jen…I can’t go on. M’serious. Lost without you, and I need you to kiss me, make it all better.”  
  
“ _You’re_ the cheesy Disney princess, Jay.” But Jensen’s smiling and the headache that’s been brewing behind his eyes for weeks suddenly vanishes.   
  
“Damn straight. And now you _gotta_ kiss me, so I turn back into a handsome prince and you get your voice back and get to keep your legs, and we slurp on the same spaghetti noodle and live happily ever after.”  
  
Jensen shakes his head, rubbing his thumb across Jared’s hand and snorting soft amusement. “Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s not how that one ends.”  
  
Jared pauses in his pouting to roll his eyes. “Dude, they all end like that.” He shifts, closing his legs around Jensen’s and dragging his heels together until Jensen’s forced into the circle of his hips.  
  
“Fair enough,” Jensen gets out around a voice and tongue gone thick. He licks his lips, shooting a look over his shoulder to find Steve just looking away, a smile hovering on his mouth. He turns back to Jared with hope for the first time in a month.   
  
“Look, have some coffee with me,” Jared says, all traces of humor gone from his voice and expression. “I know it’s cliché, but. I wanna talk. Can we talk?”  
  
“I’m working,” Jensen sighs, wishing he’d taken Steve up on that night off after all. Then he realizes it probably sounds like a dismissal when Jared’s smile falters, and opens his mouth again.  
  
But Jared’s just nodding, then leans over and whistles toward Steve. Before Jensen has a chance to react, Jared’s all smiles and _aw-shucks_ tone. “Excuse me, but would ya mind firing this guy so he’ll have a cup of coffee with me? Cut me a break here, man.”  
  
Jensen huffs out a laugh, and Steve grins. “Sure thing. Jen, you’re fired. Stella here’s gonna take your place starting Monday, aren’t you darlin’?” He wiggles his brows to a shapely redhead sitting at the bar, then shoots Jensen a meaningful look. “Case that wasn’t clear enough, get the hell outta here and _get some._ ”  
  
“Jesus!” But Jared’s already tugging him out the door. “I oughta smack you both for that,” Jensen says, not a hint of anger in his voice. Especially not when Jared shoves him up against the wall outside, gets up close and breathes him in.  
  
“Why don’tcha just spank me instead?” Jared’s grin glitters in the lamppost light, and then he reaches around and finds Jensen’s ass with big hands. Nuzzles Jensen’s neck, soft sounds and warm breath. “ _Fuck_ Jen…miss me?”  
  
“Oh, you go somewhere?” Jensen tries for some shred of dignity, but crumbles the second Jared’s tongue finds his pulse. His breath goes shaky, hands catching lean hips and pulling close. “Damn it, Jared, you know I fucking did.”  
  
“Wanna get inside you, you inside me.” Jared grinds down, lets Jensen feel just how truthful the statement is. “Been too long, felt like a walking hard-on.”  
  
“Got a nice big bed.” Jensen catches his mouth, _finally_ gets a good taste. Against Jared’s lips he adds, “Wanna come home with me?”  
  
Jared looks down at him through heavy lids. “You want me there?”  
  
The raw insecurity plastered across his face is Jensen’s undoing; he murmurs Jared’s name and laughs. “Dude, it was yours first. Fuck you, and come on home.”  
  
“With you?” Jared’s voice is steady, but it’s definitely a question. Jensen gets what this is about, and the answer is all too easy.  
  
“You’re not getting rid of me now. Sorry.” He nips Jared’s earlobe, palms his ass. “’Fraid you got me liking those Greek assholes, too, and now you’re all stuck with me. Got a tattoo on my ass says so, even.”  
  
“Yeah, about that…” Jared clears his throat, mutters a husky oath when Jensen’s fingers find their way around to the front of his pants. “You, uh, you really oughta look in the mirror once in awhile.”  
  
“What’d you do to me?” Jensen whispers, and he means it in more ways than Jared’ll ever comprehend.  
  
“Made you mine.” Jared grins, drops his forehead to Jensen’s. “Or did ya think my name’s on all the Delta Sigma crests?”  
  
“Well, son of a bitch.”  
  
Jared laughs, then laughs louder, and drops another kiss on Jensen’s mouth. “Come on, Beauty. Let’s go on home then, and I’ll let ya spank me for real. I’ve been a bad, bad boy.”  
  
_Yeah_ , Jensen thinks, following Jared out to his car with a grin on his face. _I love you, too._  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_University of Texas.  
The Cactus Café.  
Seven Days Before Pledge Week._  
  
  
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you when this all blows up in your face.”  
  
Jensen ignores Steve’s prediction as he’s been doing since he made his Delta Sigma announcement, and wipes the counter down with wet cloth. “So, after I take those Greek assholes down, I’m gonna graduate and get a job at Channel 6. Maybe I’ll even pretend I know you, get some publicity for this joint.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve mutters, shouldering Jensen into the wall as he passes by. “Just be careful what you wish for. Things have a way of working out different.”  
  
“Not my things,” Jensen says easily, and meets Steve’s raised brows with two of his own.  
  
“Excuse me.” A deep voice catches Jensen’s attention, and he glances up…and up, and up. It’s so dark in the room he can’t quite make the guy’s features out, but for some reason he just knows it’d be worth the effort.  
  
“What can I do for you?” Harmless and easy, and he shouldn’t be flirting without making sure it’d be well-received, but it’s a slow night and he’s bored as all hell.   
  
A hand slides half-across the counter, and Jensen notes the long, lean fingers. Swallows a little, because _goddamn_. It’s been awhile since he last hooked up, and even longer since he and Tom broke it off. Jensen’s missed big hands, and these look even better.  
  
As if he knows exactly what Jensen’s dirty mind is imagining, the guy smirks. Jensen catches sight of a flash of amusement under the ballcap pulled down low over the guy’s head, and then he’s leaning closer. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” Voice a tease that sets Jensen’s blood on fire and has him shifting on his feet behind the bar to hide the sudden growth in his pants.   
  
The guy finally pulls his hand away, and Jensen stares down at the dollar bills left behind. When he looks back up, the guy’s gone back to his table, laughing out loud and clapping one of his friends on the back. He glances over just once, and the brightness of that smile is something Jensen’s pretty sure he’s gonna be jerking off to for days, and he hasn’t even gotten a good look at the guy’s _face._  
  
Steve walks by, tsking under his breath about slutty employees, and Jensen just grins.  
  
Different or not, he’s got a feeling things are gonna work out just fine.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
**Epilogue.**  
  
[click images to read]  
 

[ ](http://www.sinful-desire.org/images/4l8es5e.png) [ ](http://www.sinful-desire.org/images/6fq1r94.png)


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